


Early Bird

by SilenceoftheLlamas



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Character Death (referenced), Copious Amounts of Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Gore, Human AU, M/M, Multi, Problematic chapters will have warnings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-30
Updated: 2016-08-25
Packaged: 2018-03-26 12:39:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 35,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3851302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilenceoftheLlamas/pseuds/SilenceoftheLlamas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jazz and Prowl discover just how hard, and easy, it is to love your best friend. Timeline and chapters are higgledy piggledy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bagel

**Author's Note:**

> All of this is already over at FF.net, I simply decided to post it all up over here. Nothing has been revisited/retouched to iron out any kinks.

It was the best bagel in the pack.

Perfectly round, smooth, with a clean cut right through the middle. No random chunks were missing, and the colour was simply _divine_.

And Prowl had his eye on it. Every morning he would wake up, take a bagel out of the packet and toast it before slathering cream cheese on the top of each half and enjoying it while Jazz was still struggling to keep his eyes open for five seconds. He was getting closer and closer to that perfect bagel that sat right at the bottom.

But today was different. He woke up just like usual – at half five due to his alarm – and quickly pulled on a t-shirt to stay appropriate before walking into the kitchen, taking care to not slide on the wooden floor with his socks.

Only to find, much to his horror, that the last bagel in the packet wasn’t there. He found the plastic packaging in the bin, and an unopened packet in the bread bin. The first did look good but it just _wasn’t the same_. Where was his bagel?!

He heard a loud crunch behind him, and turned around to see a very smug looking Jazz sitting perched up on the side with a plate of toasted bagel.

Jazz was eating. _His. Bagel_.

At Prowls shocked and betrayed expression, Jazz grinned and smacked his lips, making a big show of eating the perfect bagel. “Mmmm mm, Prowler. Can see why ya were savin’ this one!”

“That’s my bag- I – why are you even up this early?” Prowl stuttered, not quite sure what he wanted to say. Indignation at something he’d staked claim on being eaten by the fiend on the counter was quickly forgotten when Prowl realized that Jazz was awake and, god forbid, _dressed_.

“Just got back in.” He replied, popping the last piece into his mouth. “Recovery team took its sweet time. Was sittin’ in a dusty vent fer longer than Ah care ta remember.”

“I’ll look into that.” Prowl replied, forlornly opening up the other packet and removing the first bagel, splitting it into its two halves and putting them into the toaster. Jazz nodded as he dumped his plate down on the side, stretching and yawning loudly. He blearily rubbed at his eyes, hopping down from the side.

“Ah’m goin’ ta bed. Call meh if ya need meh.”

“As if you’d answer.”

Jazz simply chuckled from the hallway, too tired for a retort, as he opened up the door to his room.

Exactly two minutes later, Prowl could hear him snoring. Yup. Wouldn’t answer his phone.

* * *

 

When Jazz woke up again, it was late afternoon and the apartment was empty. He didn’t have another shift for two days, so he sighed and fell back down onto his bed, reluctant to leave it. His stomach grumbling again forced him up and out into the kitchen in a search of something to graze on.

He’d go straight back to bed after, he’d decided. His legs still felt like lead, and his head still pounded. He was pretty sure that he had a cracked rib, but he really couldn’t be bothered to drive the whole way to the base.

Nope. He’d wait until later. Or he could call Ratchet out her- no. Noooooo no no. Ratchet would _murder_ him first for bypassing the base and going straight home, and he quite enjoyed being alive thank you very much.

There was nothing out on the side nor the table for him to munch on, so he checked the fridge to find that Prowl had made him a small fruit salad just incase he woke up before he got back. It was predominantly apples as Prowls mother insisted on giving them almost a crate full every time she visited during the harvest, and they were struggling to find out what to do with all of them, and a few slices of banana thrown in for good measure. When Jazz shook it a little, some grapes came into view.

Grabbing a fork from the drawer, he sat at the table and started munching away on the fruit, thinking over the mission he had just been on. Falling asleep was dead easy knowing that Prowl was in the apartment, but now that he was well and truly alone he knew that he wouldn’t be getting a single wink. Oh the joys of Special Ops.

Clumsily biting down on a grape, the force of it slipping on his teeth made it shoot out of his mouth like a bullet to splat onto the wall. He grumbled and continued eating the rest of his fruit salad, taking care to not make the same mistake again. He’d have to clean it up when he’d finished. It wasn’t as if he’d be sleeping again any time soon anyway.

He left his fork and the tub on the table, deciding that he was far too tired to make the few steps to the dishwasher and yank it open, and swiped the cloth from the sink so he could wipe the grape off the wall. By now it had started to slide down and there was a long, sticky trail running down.

He was slightly tempted to just lick it off, but common sense told him otherwise and he started the laborious task of wiping down the wall so that Prowl wouldn’t even know it had happened. He was _very_ good at finding mysterious stains and patches, and most of the time it was Jazz’s fault they got there. So, he always got the blame.

Prowl was already going to be in a bad mood with him for eating his bagel (although it was _very_ delicious and he wouldn’t hesitate to do it again), and a sticky trail on the wall wasn’t something you’d want to come home to. So, scrubbing away at the wall it was.

He dumped the evidence in the bin and washed off the cloth he used before slinking back to his room and flopping down into his bed, sighing into the fabric of his pillow.

* * *

 

When Prowl returned, he found Jazz curled up on the sofa, all wrapped up in his bed sheets and the spotted blanket they kept behind the sofa for when it got cold. He wasn’t asleep, however he looked exhausted and he would be for the next few days. Jazz gave Prowl a sleepy smile when he saw him, moving to sit up but suddenly hissing as he agitated something.

And Prowl heard.

Crossing the room with three quick strides, he was immediately at Jazz’s side and was carefully pulling the covers back, Jazz scrabbling to tug them back into place. Prowl would find out that he’d skipped Ratchet and make him go!

“Jazz, let me see.” Prowl snapped, grabbing onto Jazz’s wrists as he made to tuck the covers in underneath him, where Prowl couldn’t reach. He was still annoyed at Jazz for eating his bagel (and he didn’t think he’d forgive that act of treason too soon) and he’d just spent the entire day working on dire reports. He was not in the mood for Jazz’s antics.

“It’s nothin’ – Ah just pulled somethin’. Promise.” Jazz quickly spluttered in reply, silently pleading that Ratchet hadn’t asked Prowl about him.

“Ratchet told me that you skipped seeing him after your mission.” Prowl replied with a disapproving frown. Fuck, Ratchet _had_. There was no escaping it now.

“Ah didn’t wanna waste his time, Smokey needed it more.”

“You know the rules, Jazz.”

“Ah’m fine!”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

Before Jazz could react, Prowl quickly ripped away the sheets and blanket, taking care to not hurt Jazz in the process. Jazz squeaked and immediately went to go and pull them back over himself, the sudden gust cold air unwelcome.

“Hold _still_.”

“Ah’m fine, Ah’ve got a few bruises but that’s it-“ Jazz cut himself off as he suddenly gasped, a sharp pain shooting through his side. Yep, definitely cracked, if not broken.

“That does not sound like you are fine.” Prowl remarked, ignoring how Jazz was whining as he gently pulled up the bottom of his shirt and revealed a dark blue bruise that was edging on purple. “And it doesn’t look like it either. Is this broken?”

“Maybe.”

“Jazz…”

“Alright alright! Ah’ll go!” Jazz replied, clearly exasperated as he threw his arms up and rolled his eyes behind his glasses.

“ _Now_.”

Jazz pouted and nodded, moving to stand as Prowl shifted out of the way. Gritting his teeth so he didn’t give any indication as to how much it hurt, he started to walk towards the front door when he heard Prowl fall into step beside him. He gave him a questioning glance.

“You shouldn’t be driving with a broken rib.”

The drive back to the base was relatively quiet, what with Jazz not in the mood to blast his music to window-shaking levels nor to sing along to it. Prowl was perfectly fine with this.

And to think that all of this could have been avoided if it weren’t for that one perfect bagel.


	2. Parents

It was that dreadful time of year again when one was expected to visit their parents.

The sky was blue, the sun was shining, the birds were singing, and Jazz couldn’t remember why he ever thought that this would be a good idea.

Driving down to the south was easy. Yes, the drive was laborious and long, involving multiple motels and many strange looks from their managers, however it was almost nothing compared to Jazz’s parents. Every year they insisted that they stay for the week, even though they always escaped after the second day, and it usually involved suspicious food and being slobbered on by the small army of dogs that milled around the country house.

Right now, it was early morning and Jazz was still knocked out in his bed, tangled up in the sheets as he dribbled into his pillow. Prowl was wide-awake and walking through the small orchard that he had found, basket in hand as he picked the oranges from the trees.

When Jazz’s mother had walked into the kitchen to find Prowl getting himself a glass of water, she had immediately shoved a basket into his hand and asked that he tended to the orchard and picked all of the oranges. Not one to deny his host, Prowl immediately went out to do so. He was quickly joined by a pug who had one eye locked onto him at all times, the other looking directly ahead. It was somewhat unnerving.

As he reached up to pick an orange on a higher branch, a slightly larger dog that looked like some kind of spaniel decided to barrel full-force into the backs of his legs, sending him flying.

And with Prowl, the oranges went soaring too.

The moment Prowl was down, the two dogs immediately ran at his face and began licking, slicking up his hair and trying their hardest to make sure every inch of his face was thoroughly licked before they lost interest and began preying on the oranges instead. Prowl had learned long ago that it was pointless to try and push them away as they nibbled on his hand and began to lick that instead.

“No!” Prowl yelped, quickly scrabbling up to save the oranges before the dogs devoured them. He managed to save all but one, which the pug was now galloping away with, jaws locked around the mangled fruit. The spaniel was bouncing after him, yapping excitedly.

Stupid animals.

Sighing, Prowl decided that it would be best to return with what he had, and made his way back to the house.

* * *

 

“Ah told ya that this was a bad idea!”

“Calm down, it’s not so bad.”

“Yes, it is bad! She’s gonna ask why I haven’t got a girlfriend yet an’ then demand that she has grandchildren!”

“I thought she already did?”

“Exactly!”

Prowl tried to understand what Jazz had just meant, but decided that it was most likely only to end in pain and failure and decided to ignore it. Instead he grabbed onto Jazz’s elbow and proceeded to drag him down the hall, cotton socks slipping and sliding along the polished wooden floor. “Your parents are waiting for us.”

Much to Jazz’s annoyance, both of his parents spent most of the evening harping him about settling down with someone and telling him about his job. The _truth_ about his job. They’d heard about his broken rib and were badgering him to cough up and admit that it wasn’t from him braking too hard while driving. Prowl simply sat in the armchair closest to the blazing fire that had been lit as soon as the sun had started to set, mug of coffee in hand as he barely hid his smirk. Oh, the joys of parents.

The very next morning, they said their goodbyes and quickly sped away before they could say anything else. This was mostly because Jazz knew he couldn’t spend another minute with his parents harassing him without snapping and punching one of them, and partly because a pug was eyeing Prowls leg in a way that suggested that their mind was not in savory places, and Prowl was not too eager to go through with _that_ experience again. The last time that had happened, Jazz had filmed it while crying with laughter.

Thankfully, common sense had stopped him from uploading it onto youtube.

“Your parents seemed to be happy to see us.” Prowl remarked as they stopped at a red light. The hand that wasn’t on the steering wheel was adjusting the air conditioning.

“They’re _always_ happy ta see meh.” Jazz retorted, slumping back into his seat.

“You should visit them more often.”

“They should be visitin’ _meh_ more often. The drives a killer.”

“And you’d subject your parents to that?”

“They can visit meh sister or brother on their way.”

Prowl simply rolled his eyes as they started moving again, slowly navigating through the town before they reached the motorway again.


	3. Rescue

Prowl quickly shut the door behind him, plastic bag full of shopping in one hand and the other drawn up close, pressing a bundle of blankets into his chest. Not stopping to remove his shoes, Prowl quickly rushed into the kitchen to dump the shopping and carefully set the blanket down on the table, taking care to not jolt what was wrapped up inside.

Curious as ever, Jazz poked his head outside his door to see what was happening. Upon seeing the wet footprints that lead from the front door to the kitchen, he decided to follow them and investigate. Prowl _always_ took off his shoes – _especially_ when it was this weather.

“What’s happenin’?” Jazz asked, being careful to not step on the water on the floor. A frozen looking Prowl turned around, snow falling from his hat and what could be seen of his hair.

“I found a cat.”

Jazz looked over his shoulder, and sure enough on the table snuggled up in a blanket was a small cat. From what Jazz could see of it, it was black and white with the biggest blue eyes he’d ever seen.

“Who’s cat it is?” Jazz asked, gently scratching behind its ear. The cat purred, eyes closing and leaning into his touch.

“I don’t know. He didn’t have a collar.”

“What’re we gonna do?”

“We’ll have to take it to the vets tomorrow. The snow’s too thick now.” Prowl gestured down to his legs. His trousers were clinging to him, the fabric saturated with water, and his boots completely caked in snow. “We could make a phone call to Sideswipe, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind advertising it in his window.”

Jazz nodded, knowing that the shopkeeper would. “Go get changed, ah’ll get somethin’ for it ta eat.”

Now, what was it he could feed it? Fish? Did they even have any that wouldn’t be too salty?

As it turned out, they had a can of tuna in spring water in the pantry, and Jazz was quick to open it up and present a small amount of it to the cat currently curled up on their table to see if they would be interested.

The moment his hand was close enough for the cat to smell the tuna, they perked up and slowly began to get up and padded over to Jazz, sniffing his hand before licking the tuna up and swallowing it whole.

Bit by bit, Jazz fed the cat the entire can of tuna, after which the cat allowed itself to be picked up and taken into the warm living room, where they cuddled up on Jazz’s lap.

He wanted to keep it.

“Prroowwwlllll?”

“Yes?” Prowl sighed as he walked in, wet clothes now hung up to dry in the airing cupboard. He knew that voice.

“Can we keep it?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Pretty please?”

“The outward appearance of the please will not sway me.”

Jazz pouted, returning to scratching the cat behind its ear. The moment Prowl sat down next to Jazz, the cat immediately jumped away from Jazz and snuggled up onto Prowls lap, looking up at him with his big eyes that appeared to sparkle.

“He’s givin’ ya the look, Prowler. He wants ta stay too.”

“He’s not. We don’t have the resources to look after a _fish_ , let alone a cat.”

Jazz grimaced as he remembered the fate of their pet fish. Rest in piece, goldie. Their jobs and work commitments meant that pets were a no-go. It was only because of the snowstorm that they weren’t at the base – they couldn’t even get there.

A cat was out of the question.

A cat was most definitely out of the question when it started batted Prowl on the chin, claws barely retracted, leaving red marks on his face.

“What the-“

Jazz was quick to burst into laughter at Prowls predicament, however they quickly morphed into sounds of terror as Prowl swiftly removed the cat from his face and dumped it onto Jazz.

“We’re getting rid of it tomorrow.” His tone left no room for argument, and Jazz solemnly accepted it. Prowl was not standing for having the feline tear up his face.


	4. Adoption

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follows on directly from the previous chapter!

Despite what Prowl said, they didn’t take the cat to the vet the next day. Sideswipe had put up a notice in his shop and had some of his friends in other neighborhoods put up a notice for the wayward cat, however no one had come forwards.

The pair were leaning more and more towards the idea that the cat was a stray. So, in their apartment it stayed.

Despite the first night where the cat had decided to use Prowls chin as a scratching post, the two had become almost inseparable. Wherever Prowl was, the cat was not too far behind. When they could start working again, the cat always managed to wiggle itself into the car in spite of their best efforts, and so to the base it came. The cat was an instant hit and loved by the masses.

It was not loved, however, by Red Alert. He was completely convinced that it was a spy, spouting about how the C.I.A created a ‘spy cat’ and that it could easily be repeated. Jazz was one of the first to point out that said cat was hit by a taxi.

When the snow had completely gone, Jazz took the cat to the vets while Prowl was still working to see if it had a microchip. Alas, it was to no avail as no microchip was found.

And so this was how Prowl and Jazz ended up adopting a cat.

* * *

 

“Have you got the papers?” Prowl asked nervously as he unlocked the car, locks clicking out of place.

“Yep!” Jazz chirped as he circled the car and got into the other side, envelope holding the important documents in his hand. Prowl slid in next to him, nervously taking hold of the steering wheel.

Following the various visits to their parents and the phone calls after, one topic continuously came up.

While both had siblings, they were the only ones to not have any kids to call their own. Ultimately they decided to kill two birds with one stone – stop their parents complaining and ease the strain on the orphanages that dotted the country by adopting.

And that was how they found themselves walking in to the reception for what they hoped was the final time.

Their house had been inspected, their backgrounds checked, inspectors introduced to the cat and had completed questionnaire after questionnaire. After passing everything, they had finally been allowed to pick up someone called Bluestreak.

They had obviously met Bluestreak before, and they had spent the night at their apartment numerous times so he could get used to it. Bluestreak promptly decided that he liked the pair, which was a huge jump from his previous encounters with potential parents.

“It’ll be fine.” Jazz said comfortingly, placing his hand over the hand Prowl had on the gear stick and rubbing it with his thumb. “It’s too late for them to let it fall through now. Besides, if it does, we can try somewhere else.”

Prowl allowed himself a small smile at the other mans words, turning the key in the ignition. “If they do, I’ll give them hell.”

“Ah know ya will Prowler, Ah’ll be right behind ya.”

The drive down was relatively peaceful. Every so often Jazz would start giggling out of nowhere, clutching the documents tightly to his chest. Prowl didn’t need to be psychic to know that he was excited.

In all honestly, Prowl was too. He was just better at hiding it.

“Ah wonder what he wants for dinner?”

“You’ll have to ask him.”

“Ah hope we have what he wants.”

“We probably don’t, I haven’t gone shopping this week yet. I thought it would be a good idea to go with Bluestreak so he knows where it is.”

“That’d probably be a good idea.”

* * *

 

Bluestreak was patiently waiting for them, suitcase holding everything he owned beside him as he watched TV with some of the other children. The moment he saw Jazz he immediately leapt to his feet and ran over, tackling the older man in a hug.

“Jazzy!” Bluestreak squeaked, tightening his arms around Jazz’s midsection. Jazz tried his hardest to not be bowled over, returning the hug full force. Seeing as the other man was otherwise occupied, Prowl handled the paper work.

Ten minutes later, the trio were in the car, Bluestreak happily nattering away in the back.

* * *

 

“Ah remember when we christened this place.” Jazz murmured as he played with Prowls fingers from his position snuggled up to his side. Prowl harshly pinched him, glaring at him before looking pointedly at Bluestreak. Bluestreak was completely out of it, curled up on the sofa at Jazz’s feet with the blanket and the cat sitting on top of him.

“He’s asleep.” Jazz deadpanned, nudging him with his foot for emphasis. All it prompted was Bluestreak mumbling in his sleep and turning away.

Prowl simply rolled his eyes and allowed Jazz to tuck his head under his chin. “Still. At least wait until he’s out of the room.” He quietly replied, playfully batting at the fingers playing with his own. “And I’d be quite surprised if you didn’t. And offended.”

Jazz laughed, turning to muffle it in Prowls neck. “Oh Prowler, Ah’m sure Ah wont be forgettin’ any time soon.”

“Forgetting what?” Bluestreak sleepily mumbled, shifting to sit upright. The cat, which they had ultimately decided to call ‘socks’ due to its white paws, miraculously stayed on Bluestreak’s lap without much complaint. Both adults immediately froze, Prowls face slowly heating up as Jazz tried his hardest to not crack and start laughing.

“Don’t ya worry yaself, Blue. Tired?” Jazz eventually managed, face taking a rosy hue from embarrassment. Prowl was as red as a tomato, however in the dim lighting of the room it wasn’t very obvious.

“Yeah, is it alright if I went to bed now?” Bluestreak meekly asked, scratching Socks behind their ear. Jazz nodded, shuffling away from Prowl to see Bluestreak to his room. A few minutes later, when Prowls face was considerably less red, he joined them and said goodnight to Bluestreak before going to bed himself, Jazz following him not long after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know shockingly little about the adoption process, so I just took a shot in the dark. We can pretend.


	5. Reveal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a friendly chapter. If child abuse, injury, etc etc upset you, or the like, then please take caution.

They’d managed to keep it secret for months – almost an entire _year_. Having to pretend in front of everyone that they felt nothing for the other – that they were just friends – got harder and harder with every passing moment.

One slip up, just one, and all of this would be for nothing.

The ‘double dates’ that consisted of them and two of their female friends, all four pretending until they escaped prying eyes. Stolen moments in the dark. Discrete touches that lingered far longer than necessary. Rushed escapades together and multiple close shaves.

It was by far more difficult than either of them had imagined.

It was pure, unfortunate chance that they had been discovered. There was no way they could wriggle out of this one, what with the extremely compromising position they were in. Jazz’s hands buried deep in Prowl’s hair, legs hooked over his hips. Prowl’s hands under his shirt, pulling it up and exposing his stomach.

Prowl’s father was _furious_.

Fury didn’t even begin to cover what Jazz felt when he saw Prowl the next day, battered and broken. Blue bruises marring his body, a purple bruise swallowing his eye and a split lip hap-hazardly kept together with small bits of plaster. In order to get him to calm enough to form a coherent sentence, Prowl agreed to going over to his after school and allowing his mother to clean up his injuries.

* * *

 

As Prowl ended up sitting at their kitchen table, mug full of hot ribena, Jazz’s mother gave him a hard look.

“Ya’ll have ta learn how ta stand up fer ya’self. Ya’re excuse of a pa can’t do this.” She said, tucking what she could of her hair behind her ear. It was incredibly curly and appeared to defy gravity. “If he don’t, Ah’m callin’ th’ authorities.”

“I’ve tried. It just makes him worse.” Prowl replied, testing the temperature of the liquid in his mug before taking a measured sip and placing it back onto the table. The pair had told Jazz’s parents that Prowls father had gone on a drunken rage again – it wasn’t as if it was a rare occurrence, and actually happened quite often – and that Prowl had gotten in the way as he made a beeline for his mother. Just like the other times.

Only this time, it was much, much worse.

Thankfully, his parents bought it, as they happily cleaned up his lip and the cut no one knew existed on his upper arm along with his bruises, rubbing witch hazel into them.

After carefully watching the time, Prowl arrived just as his father left for the pub. 5:30pm exactly. Prowl ducked behind some bushes to stay out of sight, silently watching his father stagger down the road before creeping towards his house and slipping inside.

His mother was waiting for him, sitting on the stairs. When she saw his shocked expression, she smiled at him.

“I knew you’d time your arrival back with when he left. You’re a clever, clever boy Prowl and I’m proud of you.”

Prowl didn’t know how to reply, but the shocked expression left his face. He now had a sense of trepidation – was he being kicked out?

“Go see Alessia. She’s been asking for you.”

Prowl stiffly nodded and shuffled past her on the stairs, taking two at a time once he had passed her. He could hear his sister before he saw her, opening the door to see the young child clinging to her pillow and stifling her sobs in it. When she saw Prowl, it was immediately abandoned and she ran towards him, ignoring the grunt of pain that escaped him when she held on too tightly.

“I’m scared, Prowl. I’ve never seen daddy so angry.” She hiccupped, fat tears rolling down her cheeks. “He smashed so many of his bottles.”

“Did he hurt you?” Prowl asked, smoothing down her hair as he accepted the fact he would have to change shirt. The one he was currently wearing was near enough _ruined_ with tears and snot.

“A little, but he got mummy first.”

Prowl felt his hands clench into fists and his jaw clench, teeth grinding together. His father couldn’t keep doing this. He _couldn’t_.

Sighing, Prowl picked up his little sister and let her wrap her small arms around his neck, almost strangling him, as she buried her face into his shoulder, avoiding the angry looking dark purple mark that looped around Prowls throat. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here to stop him.”

“I don’t want you to stop him, he’s already given you bruises.”

That was true, Prowl thought as he absently looked at his arm. Poking out the bottom of his shirt, which he had rolled up to his elbow, was a blue bruise that was slightly swollen. But that still didn’t mean that he would let his little sister get hurt. He was meant to _protect_ her, damn it!

“Well, I don’t want him to hurt you.” Prowl replied, readjusting his hold on her so he could hold her properly as he began to walk out of her room. “Do you want to see what cartoons are on TV?”

His little sister gave an enthusiastic nod as the thought of watching cartoons, making sure she held onto her big brother as he walked down the stairs.

As he sat on the sofa with her, the young child sitting on his legs and leaning back against his chest, Prowl kept an eye on the time to ensure that they were both back upstairs before their drunken father came back.

* * *

 

The next day was thankfully a weekend, and Prowl was quick to get his sister out of the house by taking her to the park.

As it was the middle of the summer, no one paid any attention to the teenager and his little sister, happily holding his hand and skipping along beside him. She was excited at the prospect of going to the park – she adored the swing sets, especially when Prowl pushed her, and going on the se-saw with her friends although she hated going on them with Prowl – he was so heavy that she couldn’t stay seated and was always thrown upwards only to land non-too-heavily back onto the hard, flat surface.

Jazz met them at the park, giving Alessia a strawberry cornetto from the ice-cream truck. While she happily licked away at it, nattering away to one of her school friends that she’d found, Prowl and Jazz found somewhere to sit and wait for her to remember the swing sets existed.

“Do your parents know?” Prowl asked, leaning back heavily against the bench. He wasn’t letting himself show it, but jesus christ it hurt to move.

“Prowler, if they did, Ah wouldn’t be here.” Jazz replied, nibbling the cone on his _99_. “You know what they’re like. Praise Jesus, lord almighty.”

Prowl simply hummed, squeezing the bottom of his calippo and taking a bite of the top. “You never know Jazz, they might be accepting of it. Jesus was very accepting.”

“It’s more my brother I’m worried about.”

“I didn’t think he was religious?”

“He’s not. He’s just an ass.”

Prowl barely restrained his laugh as Jazz gave him an irritated look, clearly displeased that Prowl found this amusing. “S’not funny. He already heavily suspects it.”

“It’s all gone to shit anyway, what’s to lose?”

Jazz groaned and slumped backwards, narrowly avoiding shoving his ice-cream onto his nose. “Everythin’. They probably wont let me see ya again, ya do realize.”

“Jazz, we know where the other lives. It hasn’t stopped us before.”

“They know tha’.”

“True.”

The pair silently watched Alessia run around with some of the other children, ducking and weaving amongst the playground equipment. There was a small bruise on her upper arm, although they weren’t anywhere near as bad as Prowls’ were.

* * *

 

“Don’t touch him! It’s just a phase! He’ll grow out of it – you will, wont you Prowl? And then he’ll be fine! He’ll be normal! Please don’t touch him-!”

Prowl could barely keep his expression neutral as his mother begged and pleaded with his father who was glaring daggers at him from across the room. Prowl highly doubted that this was ‘just a phase’ and found her choice of wording quite insulting, truth be told. But then there was also keeping quiet so nobody got hurt.

It was easy to see which he chose.

“I’m going to my room now.” Prowl announced as he made to stand, pushing back his chair. “I’ll be going to sleep.”

His father snarled, roughly pushing Prowl’s mother aside and striding towards him, roughly grabbing him by the throat and shoving him backwards so he was pressed against the wall. The bruises that were already there began protesting, Prowl madly scrabbling at the hand clasped around his neck, trying his hardest to breathe.

“Oh _jesus christ get off him_!” Prowl faintly heard his mother shriek, but all he could hear was his fathers furious, heavy breathing and the sound of blood rushing around his head.

And then the sound of Alessia crying.

His fathers hand suddenly tore away and Prowl weakly sank to the floor, coughing and choking as he fought to get his breath back. Alessia was immediately at his side, attempting to put herself between her brother and her father, sobbing. She couldn’t form any words, just high-pitched squeaks and broken noises.

“Prowl, could you take Alessia upstairs? Please?” Their mother asked, eyes locked with their fathers. She looked ready to _murder_. Prowl nodded, unable to form any words just yet, and gently encouraged Alessia to turn and face him so he could pick her up and take her to his room.

As they passed the bathroom, Prowl decided that he should probably get Alessia some tissues and take a look at his neck. He could feel it _pulsating_.

“Daddy hurt you again” She sobbed, more tears spilling out of her eyes. Prowl couldn’t think of a reply, and simply helped her wipe them away with the toilet paper. There were tissues, but they were downstairs in the kitchen where his parents were, and there was no way he was going down there again.

“Would you like to sleep in my bed tonight?” He asked, tucking her hair behind her ear. She nodded, hand coming up to rub at her eyes. Alessia loved sleeping in his bed. Prowl wasn’t quite sure why, but she did. Apparently it was more comfortable.

* * *

 

Jazz tried not to squirm under the scrutiny his parents were placing him under.

His sister was sat off to the side, eyes glued to her phone, fingers flying a mile a minute as they tapped out messages to her friends. Whatever was going on, she wasn’t paying any attention. His older brother, however, was sat on the floor, smug look on his face.

Jazz was right, and his older brother had caught on and sussed him out, although Jazz had a sneaky feeling that his older sister had been in on the loop before Jazz himself even knew. That woman had the _sight_. Jazz didn’t know anyone else who could correctly predict the winners of the game shows on TV before it had even gotten started.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Jazz’s mother softly began, leaning forwards to delicately tuck his hair behind his ear so it was away from his face. “You know you can tell us anything.”

Jazz nervously looked around – anywhere but directly at any of his family, but his fathers hand on his chin brought that action to a close and he eventually persuaded himself to look both his parents in the eye.

“Ah didn’t think that ya’d agree wit’ it.” He meekly replied, hands fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

Jazz flinched when he heard his brother bark out a laugh. “Why would they? You’re a fag, Jazz – the black sheep. Quit trying to be such a special snowflake all the ti-“ His brothers tirade was cut short as his sisters phone smacked into his face with a resounding ‘crack’, the back flying off.

“You BITCH!” He shouted, standing and advancing towards his sister, who was glaring at him hotly.

“Oh don’t you even start wit’ me sunshine.” She growled, stomping forwards. “That’s ya lil’ brother! How could ya talk to him like tha’?!”

“Because he’s _revoltin’_. That isn’t natural.”

“Then it’s a good thin’ Ah think ya revoltin’ too!” Jazz chirped, sensing a golden opportunity. “Ya can unclench now.”

“Jack, shut up.” Jazz’s father suddenly snapped, glaring at him. He then looked at Jazz’s sister who appeared to be very pleased with Jazz’s come back – almost proud, in fact. “Jess, please stop throwing your phone at people.”

Jess nodded, happily trotting over to her phone and snapping the back into place. Jack snarled and stomped out of the room, the front door slamming shut just moments later. Jazz winced, sensing that he’d just set off a long-time argument.

“Now, Jazz. Remember what we always told you. We cannot judge you.” His father said, taking one of his hands with both of his own, his mother mirroring him. “That is Gods duty. God has a plan for all of us, and this is merely part of yours.”

“Our is a religion of love, Jazzy, not hate. We’ll always be here for ya.” Jazz’s mother finished, planting a wet sloppy kiss on his forehead. “Besides, we did have our suspicions. You may well have been born with a rainbow flag.”

Jazz snorted with laughter, hugging his parents tightly to his chest.

“Prowl’s father wasn’t drunk, was he?”

Jazz flinched and shook his head, slowly releasing his parents. “Ah think ya can guess what happened.”

“That man is gonna get what’s comin’ for him.”


	6. Socks escapes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An embarrassingly short account on Socks escaping.

It was early afternoon and Bluestreak didn’t have any more classes to attend.

His day was going relatively well until he unlocked the door to the apartment and opened it, only to have a black and white streak shoot past his feet and down the hall. It only took a moment for Bluestreak to register what had happened before…

“SOCKS! NOOOOOO!”

Quickly slamming the door, he sprinted after the wayward cat.

Prowl and Jazz were going to kill him!

He didn’t see the damn thing _anywhere_. He had half a mind to return to the apartment and wait for Socks – it wasn’t as if this hadn’t happened before, and Socks always returned, but that was usually after a couple of hours. Prowl and Jazz would be _returning_ in a couple of hours! He didn’t have time to sit about and wait!

So after the cat he went, cupping his hands around his mouth and calling the cat’s name.

* * *

 

He had looked _everywhere_. The apartment complex in which he lived had no automatic doors, and at this time of day nobody would be entering or exiting. They’d either be at work, school or lazing around at home. Eventually, he slowly sunk down the door to his apartment and curled up into a ball, arms over his knees and forehead rested on them.

He’d messed up big time.

Biting back the tears that were threatening to escape, Bluestreak was about to get his phone out and text his adoptive parents to tell them what had happened when he heard a meow and looked up to see Socks.

The cat padded up to him and began nuzzling his arm, purring, before wriggling under his arm so they could sprawl out on his lap. Once comfortable, the purring resumed and Socks bumped his head against Bluestreaks leg in a silent demand. ‘Give me skritches!’

Bluestreak was happy to oblige, and only when he heard the elevator ping at his floor did he quickly scramble to his feet, Socks firmly in his arms, and dash into his apartment.


	7. Collar

The third time Socks had made a dash for it out of the front door, Bluestreak decided that it was high time they got the runaway animal a collar.

And so, down to the store he went.

Instead of going to the convenience store, he instead went to Sideswipes store. There was no reason for this – he just had a wider selection. Yeah, that was it. That was totally it.

Bluestreak was loath to admit it, but ever since he first saw Sideswipe flash that cheeky grin of his at Prowl when the two were introduced he was _smitten_.

The store was open and the bell ringed as he pushed open the door, Sideswipe immediately looking up and grinning at him as he came in.

“Hey lil’ Blue, what’cha looking for?”

“I-I need a collar for my cat.” Bluestreak was amazed he even managed to form the sentence, what with his clammy hands and the quickening of his pulse.

“Yeah, Jazz told me about Socks. Little bugger, isn’t he?” Sideswipe said as he walked around the counter and towards the pets section, Bluestreak trailing behind him. “We’ve got red collars, black collars, white collars – although I think the black wouldn’t be too good an idea, blend in too much wouldn’t it? – and we’ve got some blue collars. Sunny should be making some more next week when the next shipment of materials comes in.”

Bluestreak nodded, not really taking in what he was saying. If he didn’t control himself he would literally be swooning over the man and he couldn’t have that. He was a junior! Somehow, he didn’t think that the storeowner would feel too pleased – not to mention that it would be _awkward_.

“We’ve also got some tags too.” Sidesipe continued, not noticing that Bluestreak wasn’t paying much attention. “We’ve got lots of shapes – Sunny likes to experiment – and I can engrave it for you free of charge.”

Wait, who was Sunny?

“Who’s Sunny?” Bluestreak asked, trying his hardest to engage in the conversation.

“My twin brother. He’s not exactly social, but he makes some of the stuff that we sell. A little rough on the outside but he’s like a marshmallow – gooey on the inside”

Bluestreak didn’t even want to know why he’d just referred to his twin as a marshmallow, however knowing that there were _two_ Sideswipes was too much for his little heart to handle and his imagination was starting to run away with him. No, bad imagination!

In the end, Bluestreak chose a red collar. Sideswipe insisted that he get a tag in the shape of a sock, so in three days time Bluestreak would have to come back and collect it.

* * *

 

Three days later found Bluestreak sitting on the kitchen floor, Socks in his lap. The red collar fitted perfectly, and as a little extra Sideswipe had thrown in a bell so they always knew when the creature was sprinting towards their legs to escape when they opened the front door.

Bluestreak absently scratched behind Sock’s ear, the cat melting into him and vibrating as they purred.

Well, he’d just made a fool of himself hadn’t he?

He’d gone to the store to pick up the nametag for Socks, and the mysterious Sunny was down on the floor, putting stock onto the shelves. While he was expecting Sunny to have the same ginger hair as his brother did, a fiery red that reminded Bluestreak of London buses, they had hair so blonde it looked like woven gold.

And it left Bluestreak quickly stuttering something about leaving the oven on and speeding away with the nametag, sprinting the entire way back to the apartment and almost being hit by a few cars in the process.

He’d _never_ be able to show his face there again.


	8. Takeaway meal

Prowl was never eating a takeaway again.

He’d never had a takeaway before. His mother always cooked for him – failing that he’d make it himself. Or he’d just go out and eat.

Fast food? Yep. Restaurants? Yep. Cafés? Yup. Been there, done that. It was just the takeaway left, and it appeared Jazz deemed it appropriate to give him the first samples of it.

To begin with, he was excited. Movie marathon with Jazz with an Indian takeaway, what on earth could go wrong?

As it turned out, that was the wrong thing to say.

Everything started out just fine. They ordered, and waited around downstairs so they were close to the door to answer it when the doorbell rung. When their order arrived, they paid, tipped and excitedly took it upstairs to Prowls room.

The rest of Prowls family was out visiting his grandma. With what had recently transpired with his father, they understood that he had no desire to visit his fathers side of the family, so Prowl stayed at home and had reeled Jazz in with him.

They ate while watching the first Lord of the Rings and fell asleep partway through the second, waking up as the credits began to roll.

Comfortable where they were in their carefully constructed blanket fort, the TV and the lights were turned off and they snuggled back down again.

Two hours later, Prowl woke up with the worst stomach ache he’d ever had and he barely made it to the bathroom before his stomach decided to turn over and decide it didn’t want what was inside it anymore and get rid of it in the worst way possible.

Thankfully, the lid was already up as Prowl scrambled over to make it to the toilet in time. Seconds later, woken up by Prowl’s mad break for freedom from their fort, Jazz skidded in and knelt down next to him, soothingly rubbing his back as Prowl emptied the contents of his stomach into the bowl.

“I’m never eating takeaway again.” Prowl grumbled, leaning back.

“Yeah ya will, we just won’t order from there next time.” Jazz replied, handing him a tissue to wipe his mouth with. Prowl accepted it, murmuring his thanks before he gave Jazz a look that said ‘no, we are most definitely not’.

Oh well, he always caved. Jazz knew that they’d be getting a takeaway again – maybe they’d get a Chinese next time? He hadn’t had any in a while.

They stayed in the bathroom, leaning against the bathtub while Jazz absently rubbed Prowls back, trying his best to soothe him before he had to throw up again. His face was paler than usual and he was breaking out in a sweat, stomach occasionally gurgling. Squirming uncomfortably, he attempted to tug his shirt off before Jazz quickly stopped him.

“Ya’ve gotta keep it on. Ah know ya feel hot but ya gotta keep it on babe.”

“Don’t call me that.” Prowl huffed, pressing his cheek onto the side of the bath. It was cold, and he wasn’t about to shove his face onto the tiled floor.

“Would ya rather Ah called ya Prowler?”

“You do anyway.”

Jazz giggled, quickly jumping away when Prowl made to swipe at him.

* * *

 

Half an hour found them back in Prowl’s room and in the blanket fort. Jazz had easily fallen asleep again, cuddled snugly up to Prowls side with one arm slung over him, the other underneath his head, however Prowl was not finding it quite so easy. He had a disgusting taste in his mouth, and if he moved he’d feel bad if he woke Jazz up. His stomach still hurt with the occasional ache and he was far too hot.

Maybe if he was careful he could get a glass of water.

Wriggling out from under Jazz, he slowly made his way out of the blanket fort. Jazz whined in his sleep, curling up at the sudden loss of warmth, but remained asleep. Prowl almost crawled back in there and then, but decided against it when he remembered the taste in his mouth.

Taking two steps at a time, he went down the stairs and into the kitchen. Careful to not make too much noise, he got a glass out and filled it with water before quickly downing it and returning upstairs to wriggle back into place in the blanket fort.

The moment he was back in, Jazz cuddled back up to him and leeched all of his warmth. Prowl never understood his apparent heat-seeking abilities, and while they could be rather endearing at times, sometimes it could be annoying. For example, when you were far too hot and felt like something was having a boxing match in your stomach.

“Oh for goodness sake Jazz _stop_ _it_!” Prowl hissed as he found himself pushing Jazz away again. He was still zonked out, snoring every so often. He couldn’t hear Prowl, but that didn’t stop Prowl from trying to reason with him.

By the time the sun had risen, Prowl had managed to fall into an uneasy sleep, flittering in and out of consciousness. When he woke up again, he noticed that Jazz was gone and he could smell something being cooked.

He wrapped his blanket around him as he tromped downstairs and poked his head into the kitchen. Jazz was standing by the stove, saucepan bubbling away with what looked like chicken noodle soup inside. He hadn’t noticed Prowl yet, so Prowl took this opportunity to sneak up behind him and rest his head on his shoulder – he wasn’t quite tall enough to put it on top of Jazz’s head – while wrapping his arms around him.

Sure enough, Jazz jumped with an unmanly squeak.

“Prowler! Ya should be in bed!”

“Got bored.”

“Ah don’t care – ya get up there right now.”

“Come with me?” Prowl asked, reaching forwards and covering one of Jazz’s hands with his own, intertwining their fingers together.

“In a minute, Ah’ll bring this up ta ya.” Jazz replied, pointing to the soup with the wooden spoon he’d been using to stir it.

“I’ll wait.” Prowl replied, allowing his hand to fall away and returning it to its previous position. Jazz huffed, shaking his head. Stubborn man.


	9. Cold

Open, roaring fires were a thing of the past. No, apartments were kitted out with state of the art internal heating!

If only it actually _worked_.

Given that Prowl had spent most of his day outside in the snow attempting to find the owner of the cat before giving in and taking it back home with him to look again the next day, he was cold. Now, the heating was working when he got back, but not long after he’d gotten changed did it suddenly stop working. He was still on the damp side, what with his hair getting soaked by snowflakes, while Jazz was dry and Socks was cuddling up to him for warmth.

Bundled up with blankets, hands clasped around a hot ribena, Prowl hoped that he didn’t catch anything.

* * *

 

One could hope.

He woke up the next morning finding it difficult to breathe, watering eyes, a runny nose and a pounding headache.

Yup. He’d caught something.

Thankfully he knew he didn’t have to go to base today – they were still classed as snowed in – so he simply rolled over and hoped nobody needed him. He was met with a pair of bright blue eyes gazing back at him, and he jumped back when he realized that it was the cat.

No. No no _no_ -

Instead of clawing his face again, the cat simply rubbed its face on his and purred, curling up underneath his chin with its head resting on his neck.

Well, this wasn’t too bad. Socks was fluffy and cuddly, and his constant purring was rather relaxing.

Prowl found himself starting to drift off again until he heard someone ‘awwing’ at the door, and blearily opened his eyes to see Jazz standing at the door, one hand clasped over his chest and one covering his mouth.

Was that a phone in his hand?

Yes, it was. Jazz had clearly seen his chance to get a photo of Prowl being cuddly to prove to the base that yes, he _did_ have a soft side, and had come equipped with his camera phone.

Prowl couldn’t _wait_ to find out his next nickname. They’d only just stopped calling him _David_.

“No selfies.” Prowl attempted to say, although it was difficult to talk and it came out sounding like someone was dragging fingers over a chalkboard.

Jazz pouted but solemnly accepted it. He climbed back into bed opposite Prowl, cuddling up to him in a similar way to the cat, before dosing off again.

* * *

 

Prowl was in that annoying state of half asleep-half awake when Jazz wriggled out of bed again, flouncing off into the kitchen. Prowl couldn’t be bothered to move and he had a feeling Socks would claw him again if he did, so he stayed put.

A few moments later, Jazz came back in again holding two steaming mugs. Prowl couldn’t smell what it was, but he had a feeling Jazz expected him to drink it. Shooing Socks away, Prowl sat up and accepted the mug from Jazz before taking a sip.

It took all of his hard-earned self-restraint to not spit it out.

Jazz had put something in it – most likely beechams powder knowing him – and it tasted revolting.

“Ya’ve gotta drink all of it.” Jazz replied, voice a little hoarse. Looked like he’d started to get something too, although Prowl doubted he’d get anything too bad. He never seemed to.

“What did you put in it?”

“Beechams.”

Prowl huffed. No wonder it tasted revolting. He brought the ‘#1 tactician’ mug to his mouth again – it was a tasteless mug that his mother had bought for him one Christmas as she thought it was hilarious – and took a measured sip again before gagging and putting it down before he dropped it on himself and the cat.

He hoped he’d be better soon.


	10. Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set after Chapter 5: Reveal.

Prowl had woken up with Alessia cuddled up to him, one arm thrown over him, the other curled under her head like a pillow. She was still fast asleep, chest slowly rising and falling with every breath. He couldn’t find it in him to get up nor put her into her own bed – for one, he felt sore all over. He didn’t really feel like moving.

It was only when his mobile vibrated did he move. The red light was flashing indicating that he’d received a message, and when unlocked it he discovered that it was a text message from Jazz.

Nothing could have stopped him from leaping out of bed then, perched on the edge as he quickly opened it. All kinds of things were running through his head, but first and foremost he was terrified that he’d been hurt by someone. His jaw clenched inadvertently at the thought, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold himself back if he had.

Prowl opened up the text, and instantly relaxed when it wasn’t saying anything about him being hurt.

‘ _I need to see you_ _L_ ’ was all it said, which still had Prowl a little on edge, but he knew that if anyone had hurt him he would say.

“Prowl?” Alessia sleepily asked, moving to sit up and rub at her eyes tiredly. She crawled towards her older brother and settled down next to him.

“I’m just going to go out for a bit, you can carry on sleeping here. Okay?” Prowl replied, standing up and walking towards his wardrobe.

Alessia made a sleepy sound of acknowledgement before flopping back down onto the pillow, tugging the duvet down with her. Within moments she was fast asleep again.

* * *

 

Sneaking out was incredibly easy. Laughably easy. His father was still asleep, snoring away as he slept off the alcohol he’d had the other day. Creeping down the hall, skipping the creaky step and not rattling the key was childs play to him.

Prowl tried to ignore the way people stared at him as he made his way over to Jazz’s house. He knew he looked a mess – black eye, split lip, heavily bruised neck, and what was visible of his arms swollen with dark blue and purple markings. On his right arm was a long slice that was dotted with blood, but Prowl had no idea when or how it had gotten there.

At least no one was rushing out to question him. They used to, but once they learned what his father was like, they stopped. The answer never changed.

Jazz was waiting for him at the door, and the moment he saw Prowl he took off and sprinted towards him, wrapping his arms around his neck and hugging him tightly.

Prowl bit down hard on his lip so he wouldn’t make a sound. Yes, it hurt, but he’d bear with it for now.

“We should probably go inside.” Prowl quietly murmured after a few moments of the two simply holding the other, each reluctant to let go. “We’re being stared at.”

“Probably a good idea.” Came Jazz’s muffled reply, and he slowly unraveled himself from Prowl before leading him back to his house. He glanced at his neck and winced in sympathy. How Prowl managed to carry on as if none of his bruises bothered him was beyond Jazz.

As it turned out, it was just Jess at home. Jack hadn’t returned the night before and had called to say he was staying at a friend’s house, and Jazz’s parents had gone out for their weekly shop.

When she heard the front door open, she was immediately up and poking her head out of the living room door. Her jaw dropped when she saw Prowl, and the blood had drained from her face.

“Wha’ the _fuck_?!” She exclaimed, stalking forwards and immediately taking the arm with the mystery cut on it. “Ya look like ya got into a fight with a bear, Prowl.”

“It feels like it.”

Jess looked up and searched Prowls face, mouth pressed into a thin line. “Please tell me he won’t do it again.”

Jazz glanced up at Prowl, hand sneaking down and sliding into his. Prowl immediately squeezed it comfortingly.

“I can’t make any promises.”

“Ah hate this.” Jess quietly said, extending her arms in a question. Can I hug you?

The answer was a yes as Prowl mirrored the gesture, and Jess quickly hugged him – taking care to not put any pressure onto him so as to not aggravate any bruises – before stepping back and trying to act cheerful. “Would you like anythin’ to drink?”

Prowl rejected her offer, and Jess trotted off to make herself a cup of coffee (how she could drink that stuff Prowl would never know) while Jazz dragged him upstairs to his room.

The moment the door had closed behind them, Jazz had turned around and immediately wrapped his arms around Prowls neck again, burying his face into his shoulder. It was slightly awkward with his glasses as they kept on getting in the way, and eventually Jazz huffed and took them off, dropping them onto his bed before returning to his previous position.

All Prowl could think to do was to return the gesture, both arms winding around him, one hand reaching up to run through his hair.

“Ah’m sorry.” Jazz said, heavily muffled by the fabric of Prowls shirt.

“What for?”

“Everythin’. None of this would’a happened if Ah’d kept ma big mouth shut.”

Prowl tightened his hold, nuzzling Jazz’s head. “Don’t be sorry for anything.”

In the beginning, the two were just friends. Incredibly close friends, at that. Where one was, the other wasn’t too far behind. If you invited one you invited the other, simple as.

While Jazz was popular, a magnet for people with a reputation for being a heartthrob, Prowl was not. He was known, yes, but not in a good way. Stoic, smartarse and nerd were the terms most common for him, and many people were surprised that Jazz preferred Prowls company over anyone else’s. How on _Earth_ could the fun loving Jazz stand being around Prowl, the infamous wet blanket, for more than five minutes?

The pair were often found with Optimus, someone who was just as popular as Jazz and people seemed to flock to him for advice and guidance. Whenever the three had P.E, everyone would fight to be on their team. Despite Prowl not being very popular, no one could deny that he was excellent at tactics and without a single doubt, whatever team he was on always won.

And that was how the three earned their reputation as being the ‘unbeatables’.

It was at one of Optimus’ house parties when Jazz realized that his feelings for Prowl extended beyond that of friendship.

The end of the school year was drawing near, and all of their exams were over. Optimus, in all of his glory, decided to host the notorious end of year party. In some ways it was lucky that his parents were literally rolling in cash – the grounds surrounding their house were extensive, and the damage could be limited to the outside.

As per usual, Prowl and Jazz were on top of the invite list and were the first to arrive to help set up. While Prowl had wanted to sneak away as people started arriving like he usually did, Jazz insisted that he had to stay, so he did. This meant that he had ample time to collect a bright red cup that seemed to only exist in movies and fill it to the brim with beer.

He should have thought twice about drinking on an empty stomach – he hadn’t eaten all day as his father was in the living room and he didn’t want to have to walk past him to get into the kitchen, and after he’d seen one of the jocks acting suspiciously near the buffet table he’d decided against getting something to eat from there. So, given that his stomach was empty and was reminding him of that every so often, there was nothing to dull the effect of the alcohol, and he quickly got drunk.

Jazz was twirling around, dancing around the others on his search for Prowl to find out how the wallflower was doing, only to find him drunk and not quite sure what the girl pressed up close to him was doing. Jazz felt something ugly tug in his heart and he instantly knew that he had to get Prowl away from her. Now.

Tugging him away with a giggle, Jazz skipped away, Prowl in tow, and didn’t stop until he was sure they were alone.

Prowl seemed to be much more comfortable now, a relaxed expression on his face. He’d left what remained of his beer behind, but he didn’t seem to miss it.

On the other hand, Jazz wasn’t sure of what to make of the emotion that was currently wrapping itself around him. He felt jealous of the girl earlier, and he wanted nothing more than to get rid of whatever she’d left behind on Prowl. There was a small smear of lipstick on his shirt collar, and the first thought to enter his mind was ‘I have to take his shirt off’, which was quickly stopped before it could get any further.

He wasn’t supposed to be thinking like this!

Before Jazz could begin to convince Prowl to go back home, Prowl had suddenly thrown his arms around Jazz and pulled him into a hug, chin resting on his shoulder. He sighed heavily, breath tickling at Jazz’s neck and sending tingles straight through him before saying ‘thank you’.

The pair managed to find Optimus and tell him that they were leaving – Prowl because he was already drunk and Jazz because he wanted to make sure he got home – and when Jazz snuck back in through the kitchen window, he realized that his shirt smelled just like the aftershave Prowl had used and he almost fell into the sink headfirst.

As he clumsily got back to his feet again, he looked up into the unimpressed face of his older sister and he tried not to cringe. She simply rolled her eyes, got herself a glass of water and helped him sneak upstairs, the pair matching their footfalls.

Before Jazz opened the door to his room, Jess leaned down and quietly whispered that he should try and wash that shirt as soon as possible as it stunk of another mans aftershave and that he didn’t want their parents getting the wrong idea. He mumbled back that it was Prowls before skittering into his room, completely missing the look on his sisters’ face.

The next time Jazz saw Prowl, he looked incredibly embarrassed and flustered and was repeatedly apologizing for what he had done. Apparently he didn’t remember much, but he knew he’d gotten drunk and he thought that was a bad thing.

As there was no school for them to go to for a while, Prowl, Jazz and Optimus had all decided that the new movie that had just been released at the cinema was far too interesting to pass up, and had gotten a bus into the town center to go and see it. Unfortunately for Jazz and his already muddled mind, the group in front of them in the queue to the ticket office were rowdy and enjoyed pushing and shoving each other. It was just Jazz’s luck that he was bumped into and sent straight into Prowl, who tried his best to catch him as the two stumbled backwards. It was pure luck that nobody saw the kiss that followed, the momentum too much. It was brief and was better described as a brush of their lips but none the less the two immediately went bright red and were incredibly flustered as they tried to help the other stand again. Optimus just watched the two with mild fascination, wondering what had happened to make them so embarrassed.

Unfortunately for Jazz, the movie turned out to be a horror.

None of them had anticipated this.

At all.

Jazz was terrible with horror movies, and as a result had vowed to never watch them. His glasses were quickly steamed up from his tears, and he had quickly latched onto Prowl (he happened to be the closest) and hid his face into his shoulder. Eventually taking pity on him, Prowl allowed Jazz to move close enough for him to put an arm around him and offer some sense of comfort. After all, this was just a movie.

The moment the credits began rolling Jazz was up out of his seat and was quickly making his great escape, Prowl scrambling after him so he wouldn’t lose him in the crowds with Optimus close behind.

Jazz continuously found himself making excuses to touch Prowl or to be close to him. Every time he’d get this proud sense of achievement, and even when he promised himself he’d stop he found himself doing it again and again.

Sick, sick, sick. That’s how he felt.

Whenever his grandparents visited, he felt fear grip at him and his hands shook slightly every time the forbidden ‘h’ word was mentioned. He knew what they thought about people in love with the same sex – they thought they should be killed or sent away to be ‘corrected’. That it was a self-inflicted disease of the mind and that they should be punished until it goes away.

Jazz didn’t try to hide it from himself that he was hook, line and sinker for Prowl. He knew he was. How couldn’t he be? Prowl was good looking, had morals and even though many didn’t see it, a heart of gold. He loved being around him and felt infinitely calmer. His many dreams that centered around the man didn’t help his case either.

It was during one movie night where himself and Prowl where the only ones present that he finally broke and admitted everything. Once one thing came out, the others soon followed and before he knew it everything was tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop it – when he realized, why he’d been more touchy feely lately – everything.

And Prowl simply sat and listened.

His lack of action made Jazz feel nervous and he was about to bolt out of the door and hide in a hole until he could drag himself back out again when Prowl stopped him and insisted that he stay.

Did Prowl feel the same way? No, not exactly. But he was very willing to give it a go, and admitted that he had enjoyed the extra attention Jazz was showering him with.

And it was that decision that landed them in the predicament they were currently facing.

“I’m glad you didn’t continue to keep yourself in the dark. I’m glad this happened.” Prowl assured, pressing a kiss to Jazz’s forehead. “Please don’t blame yourself.”

“Ah’m scared about ya Prowler” Jazz quietly replied, turning to look up at him. Prowls face was the only thing he could see clearly, and he despised what he saw. Fat, swollen and split lip, a black eye and a red bruise creeping along the side of his face. If he glanced down, he saw the bruises that marred his neck and had to bite back the urge to cry at the sight of them. He caused this. If he hadn’t said anything to Prowl that day – if he’d just kept it quiet – nothing would have happened and they wouldn’t have been in this position.

“Don’t worry about me, Jazz. He’s done far worse, I can handle it.”

“Prowler that doesn’t change anythin’! He’s hurtin’ ya!”

“And I will endure.” Prowl allowed himself a small smile and pressed a kiss to Jazz’s lips, ignoring the way it stung. “Everything will be just fine. I promise.”


	11. Catnip

When Bluestreak returned home from school one day, he found Jazz knocked out on the sofa and a mysterious empty frozen food bag on the kitchen floor.

From what Prowl had told him, he shouldn’t be surprised to see Jazz there – apparently he had gone away for a little while and he’d be very tired when he got back – and knowing Jazz’s strange disposition of not being able to sleep unless Prowl was there he left him be and didn’t wake him.

Socks, on the other hand, was nowhere to be found.

That was until he walked past the airing cupboard on his way to his bedroom, and the door quite literally flung open and the cat was suddenly on his face, wriggling and purring and digging his claws into Bluestreak’s head in order to stay there.

Bluestreak released a loud, startled yelp and fell back, narrowly missing hitting the radiator, trying his hardest to get the damn animal to _let go._

He heard a thump coming from the living room, and seconds later Jazz appeared, looking very on edge and slightly crouched, one hand reaching down to the thankfully empty holster on his thigh.

“Jazz, help me!” Bluestreak whined, getting a mouthful of fur. Socks seemed to just get more excitable at this, and began jumping around on Bluestreaks face, poised and ready to pounce. Jazz quickly straightened and ran over to try and prize the cat off of the teens face.

“The heck is wrong wit’ ya Socks?” Jazz asked, his voice still groggy from his nap. Socks decided that they did not like being held and immediately began to wriggle around, yowling and twisting. Jazz was scared that he was hurting them, and quickly put them onto the floor and leaped back as Socks darted away.

“Ya didn’ happen ta see an empty bag anywhere, did ya Blue?” Jazz asked nervously, eyes trained on the cat.

“I saw a frozen food bag in the kitchen…”

“… Prowler’s gonna kill us.”

“Why? What was in it?”

“Catnip.”

There was a thumping noise, and the two turned around to see that Socks had finally crashed, and was now face-down on the floor.

… Was that dribble Bluestreak saw?

Jazz simply groaned and dragged himself over, picking up the cat who was as limp in his arms as a doll, dribble dribbling down their chin, before moving to dump the dumb creature in its basket in the kitchen.

“Ah have no idea how long Socks’ll be like tha’ for. Ah just hope Prowler doesn’t see.”

“He’ll notice the catnip though.” Bluestreak pointed out, kneeling down to pet Socks.

“If you give Side’s puppy eyes he might be willin’ ta give ya some. He’s got a soft spot for ya, yanno.”

Bluestreak tried his hardest to not furiously blush. “Somehow I don’t think that will work.”

“Aahh, maybe not Sides.” Jazz seemed to contemplate something for a moment before grinning again. “But maybe Sunny?”

* * *

 

As it turned out, the puppy eyes didn’t work on Sideswipe, but as Bluestreak dejectedly shuffled out of the store Sunstreaker silently handed him a packet of catnip. Before he could escape, Bluestreak had immediately hugged him, thanking him profusely before leaving and trying to track down the energy drink Jazz had asked for.

Jazz had decided that he wouldn’t bother trying to get to sleep – without Prowl it didn’t seem to work too well – and they had no coffee. He didn’t know why he had started to drink it, although he was suspicious that his older sister Jess had something to do with it. Energy drinks were the next alternative, apparently.

The moment Jazz saw it his eyes lit up and he was making grabby hands, too tired to care how undignified the action was, and cracked it open the moment he could. Bluestreak could smell strawberries, and quickly checked over the other can he had bought. Was it strawberry flavoured?

Bluestreak couldn’t find anything on flavour, and guessed that it was just him, absently shrugging as he went to hide the catnip away so Socks couldn’t get at it again. The cat was still lounging in its basket, dribble all over the blankets that padded it, tail lazily flicking. Still high as a kite, then.

Both Jazz and Bluestreak jumped when they heard the front door open and close again. Prowl was back. Sharing a nervous glance, they poked their heads out of the kitchen door and prayed to whatever god was looking down at them that Prowl would not notice the state their cat was in.


	12. Catnip part two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set right after the events in Catnip.

What on _Earth_ had they done to the cat?

Prowl had come home to suspicious smiles and was being kept away from the kitchen by Jazz and Bluestreak. Socks was nowhere to be seen.

But in a moment of distraction, Prowl managed to slip away and peek into the kitchen to see their cat sprawled out on its basket, dribbling with its tail lazily flicking to and fro. Striding over to the cupboards, Prowl found a brand new and unopened bag of catnip.

Prowl slowly turned and lazily strode into the living room, where he’d left Jazz and Bluestreak.

“So.” He said, lifting the bag of catnip. The colour promptly left the pairs faces and they shared a glance that screamed ‘ _shit_!’. “Is anyone willing to explain?”

“I was at school all day!” Bluestreak immediately said, throwing his hands up in a placating gesture. Jazz shot him a glare. _Thanks a lot_. Bluestreak simply grinned in return. He was safe.

Prowls glare turned to Jazz, and he visibly shrunk back under his intense gaze. “Ah may have had a lil’ nap? Socks must’a broken in then.”

“You know you shouldn’t sleep during the day! It’s bad for you!”

“Well Ah wouldn’t have had ta if ya weren’t keepin’ meh up last night.“

“If memory serves me correctly, it was _you_ who-“

“Please! Stop!” Bluestreak whined, covering his ears and rolling off the sofa. “I don’t wanna know!”

And with that, Bluestreak picked himself off the floor and escaped the room, announcing that he was going to do some homework.

“Apparently it was Sunstreaker who gave him the catnip. Sideswipe wouldn’t give him a free one.” Jazz quietly said, glancing at Prowl to gauge his reaction. He twitched and looked at Jazz.

“No.”

“Aww come on Prowler, he’s old enough ta choose for himself!”

“No.” Prowl replied as he threw the bag of catnip at Jazz. “Go put this away _properly_ , then you can nap again. I’ll see how our cat is feeling.”

Jazz sighed and stood up, padding towards the kitchen behind Prowl to try and stuff the packet somewhere Socks couldn’t get to while Prowl attempted to see how the animal was doing.

As it turned out, Socks was starting to overcome its affect and they had the energy to lazily paw at Prowls face, although their chin was still slick with drool and Prowl was unwilling to allow the cat to smear its dribble all over him. Eventually managing to maneuver the cat into a more comfortable position, Prowl picked them up by the middle and tried to not be too distressed at the way they limply hung there and allowed Prowl to carry them like that. Jazz barely muffled his snorts of laughter, remarking that they looked like a ferret.

* * *

 

Prowl was halfway to sleep by the time Socks had found it within themselves to pluck themselves up from their drool-slickened basket and drop themselves down onto Prowls chest.

They jolted at the sudden weight, quickly relaxing when he noticed that it was just the cat. Jazz was still fast asleep next to him and was snoring, most of the covers wrapped around him as always. Prowl rearranged what little of the duvet Jazz had left him to allow Socks to wriggle in underneath and cuddle up to him.

Everything was fine and Prowl was ready to go back to sleep again until he noticed just how _wet_ the cat was.

“Eugh! Socks, no! That’s disgusting!” Prowl scolded as he promptly pushed the cat off of him and onto the floor. Socks gave him a wounded look before slinking away, most likely to cuddle up to Bluestreak instead.

Jazz was quietly snickering to himself, obviously woken by the commotion. Prowl raised an eyebrow at him.

“Finding this funny are we?”

“Incredibly.”

Prowl didn’t even reply. No, instead he ripped the covers away from Jazz and promptly rubbed his wet t-shirt all over him whilst fighting off the other mans flailing limbs.

“Prowler!” Jazz whined, tilting his face away from the wet garment. “Ah was dry!”

“So was I until your cat came in and slobbered all over me.”

“If Ah remember correctly, ya were the one who picked it up.”

“It was going to die if I didn’t. Besides, you’re the one who begged to keep it, so it’s yours.”

“It prefers ya.”

“I wonder why?” Prowl casually replied as he finally managed to stuff the t-shirt into Jazz’s open mouth.

Jazz nearly screamed, tearing his face away and rolling off the bed. “Oh man Ah think Ah’m gunna be sick.” He moaned, tongue sticking out of his mouth.

“Make sure you do it in the toilet.” Prowl replied as he finally stripped off the wet t-shirt, his mission accomplished.

“So cold, Prowler.”


	13. Fury

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not a friendly chapter. Bullying/abuse, extreme injury, the fun stuff.

The first time Bluestreak came home with a bloody nose, he said it was from being hit by a ball during a cricket game.

The next time, he said it was basketball.

Then, it was football.

There were bruises in easily hidden places.

Cuts hidden underneath scarves.

Prowl and Jazz had their suspicions, but they never voiced them.

The final straw for the pair was when Bluestreak decided to spend the night at a friend’s house so they could work on their project together. Jazz had allowed it, as Prowl was still on base and wouldn’t be back until the morning, and so away Bluestreak went.

Luckily for the trio, said friends house was opposite the store where Sunstreaker and Sideswipe worked. Already being filled in on the situation by Jazz, they promised to keep an eye on him.

Not even an hour after Bluestreak had walked out of the door, Sunstreaker had found himself banging on the door with a Sideswipe in tow as the sounds of shattering glass and muffled screams reached their shop. Why none of the neighbors bothered to do anything about it was beyond the twins, but they’d rather get Bluestreak themselves than let a stranger walk away with him.

When that garnered no response from the occupants inside, Sunstreaker began to search for an open window. The sounds were getting quieter from inside and it terrified him, although he’d never admit it.

Finally wiggling in through an open window he had found while instructing Sideswipe to call Prowl, Sunstreaker entered the house.

It wasn’t hard to find where Bluestreak was. From inside, the shouting was louder, and he could hear the sound of whimpers and muffled shouts of pain. Every so often there would be the sound of something hitting the floor.

Quickly finding the stairs, Sunstreaker bolted up them and towards the room where the noise was coming from. The door was open, and all Sunstreaker felt was pure _anger_.

All he saw was red.

Jaw clenching hard, Sunstreaker took a measured step into the room, taking care to not reveal himself. His fists were clenched hard enough for his nails to pierce the skin on his palm, and he was sure his face was growing redder than his twin’s hair.

Bluestreak was on the floor, rope tied around his wrists and ankles tight enough to pierce his skin. A random piece of cloth had been shoved into his mouth as a makeshift gag, and the fabric of his t-shirt covering his back was gone. In its place was bare skin covered in salt and dry ice in the shape of a cross.

Sunstreaker knew what salt and dry ice did.

Bluestreak had tears rolling down his cheeks, and was struggling against the three people who held him down to the floor so he couldn’t escape. It was worthless to try.

Would Sunstreaker just stand and stare? No. Absolutely not. When Bluestreak looked up at the door, silently pleading that the parents would come home and help him, he saw Sunstreaker.

And he had never been happier in his life.

Managing to release a choked sob, Bluestreak made eye contact with Sunstreaker and saw the exact moment the mans restraint broke.

There was a sickening crack as the first punch was thrown, breaking the nose of one of the people holding Bluestreak down. The other two immediately let go of him and attempted to defend themselves, however it was for naught. Sunstreaker was pissed, and when he was pissed you didn’t fight back. You ran.

It appeared they didn’t get the memo, as soon they were in the same state as the first victim of Sunstreakers.

Taking out the blade he had kept in his pocket out of habit, Sunstreaker cut through the rope as carefully as he could. The moment he could, Bluestreak was clinging onto Sunstreaker, shaking violently and breathing heavily. Sunstreaker could both feel and hear his heart, which was pounding so quickly Sunstreaker was almost certain Bluestreak was about to faint.

“Can you stand?” Sunstreaker asked, slowly standing up to see if Bluestreak could follow. He managed to, but his knees knocked together so much he fell back down again.

“I’m sorry” Bluestreak sniffed. “I can’t feel my legs.”

“Don’t worry. Is it okay if I carry you?”

Bluestreak nodded, lifting his arms up to make it easier for Sunstreaker as the man carefully picked him up, careful to not put too much pressure onto his back.

“Prowl’s on his way, I’ll take you back to the shop first, okay?”

Bluestreak nodded, his face buried into Sunstreakers shoulder. His arms were looped around his neck, holding on tightly. He was still shaking.

* * *

 

Bluestreak had never been in Sunstreakers studio before.

There was all kinds of equipment in there, much of it he couldn’t name, but it was very obvious that he was the creative one. Dominating an entire wall was a shelving unit, mostly made of pigeonholes that were full of different materials.

Bluestreak was currently sat on the sofa in there, wearing one of Sunstreakers t-shirts and wrapped up in a blanket covered in paw prints while nursing a hot drink. He didn’t know what it was nor did he care, all he knew was that it tasted nice, smelled good and made him feel calmer.

Sunstreaker was sat beside him, tapping away on a laptop. When Bluestreak looked over, he saw he was typing something. He guessed it was a statement for what he had seen and what had happened.

Bluestreak shuddered and took another sip of his drink.

Prowl had quickly arrived, his contacts in the police proving to be of use. Instead of helping to apprehend the people inside the house like he would have done in any other case, he immediately went to Bluestreak.

By then, he was still clinging onto Sunstreaker, and it took a lot of effort to get him to let go. He simply didn’t want to.

Jazz felt incredibly guilty. He was the one who had said it was okay for Bluestreak to go, he was the one who allowed it to happen. Sideswipe assured him that there was no way he could have known, and that if Jazz hadn’t told them to be alert then Bluestreak would be in even bigger trouble.

He didn’t like this, but he eventually accepted it with a little persuasion from Prowl. Damn, but the man could be persuasive.

* * *

 

Instead of taking Bluestreak back home when he got the feeling back in his legs and felt up for moving, Prowl took him down to the base. His excuse was that he wanted Ratchet to take a look at his back, although Jazz had a sneaky feeling that Prowl wanted Bluestreak to be in an environment where he was certain he was protected.

Nobody would lay a finger on the son of the Second and Third in command, adopted or otherwise.

And none of them were judgmental, seeing nothing wrong with their relationship status.

Ratchet was simmering with anger as Jazz quietly filled him in inside the CMO’s office. He looked through the window at Bluestreak, who was sitting on one of the medical beds with Prowl, leaning against him with drooping eyelids.

There were angry red marks around both his wrists and his throat. His nose had dried blood surrounding it, no one willing to wipe it away lest they accidentally hurt Bluestreak. There were bruises all over his face, making it swell up. An eyebrow had a sizeable cut running through it, most likely permanently scarring it.

Ratchet didn’t want to know what he couldn’t see looked like. The thought that someone had done this made him feel sick.

“What are you two going to do then? He obviously can’t go back to that school. Not like this.” Ratchet asked, folding his arms over his chest as he continued to carefully watch Bluestreak.

“Ah have no idea, Doc. We’ve already informed the school about what happened, they know Blue ain’t goin’ back.” Jazz sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “We would homeschool him but we’re hardly ever there.”

Ratchet exhaled heavily. “Can he not come to base with you? I’m sure there are plenty of people around who would be willing to help out. Everyone’s furious.”

“Ah’m not sure, he might be a lil’ twitchy around strangers.”

“You could introduce all of them to him. One by one, calm open setting. I’d talk to Smokescreen about it.” Ratchet replied, opening his office door and gesturing for Jazz to leave before him.

* * *

 

As it turned out, Bluestreak didn’t get too panicked around strangers. So long as Prowl or Jazz were there, he was okay. He didn’t talk much, nor did he shoot off on his famed tangents, but Prowl and Jazz were thankful for at least that.

Bluestreak had quickly warmed up to Wheeljack, the base’s infamous eccentric inventor. Prowl tried to not show his horror too much. If _Bluestreak_ became a walking bomb threat too, he didn’t know what he’d do.

So, Bluestreak spent most of his time with Wheeljack, sitting in the corner of his lap with a pile of books as he studied. When he got stuck, he’d ask Wheeljack, who most of the time could answer his question although on a few rare occasions Bluestreak would have to search for someone else.

He despised this, although if he wanted to stay out of school he’d have to complete the work they sent him on time and to a good enough standard.

This lead to him discovering the firing range and just how good a shot Ironhide was.

School work forgotten, Bluestreak immediately moved to watch Ironhide. The man was dressed in a red shirt with loose fitting black trousers, most likely to allow the best movement. His hair was ginger, although not quite as red as Sideswipes was, and was flecked with silver.

And he had noticed Bluestreak before he had even walked in through the door.

“Shouldn’t ya be with Wheeljack, Blue?” He asked as he casually discarded an empty shell onto the floor, reloading his rifle with a new one.

“I needed to find Hound to ask him something for Biology, I thought he might be here.” Bluestreak replied, watching with wonder as Ironhide clicked the gun back into place.

“He’s out on patrol. Ah can give him a call if ya’d like?”

“No, no, that’s fine.” Bluestreak spluttered. “I can wait.”

Ironhide noticed that the teen’s eyes had not once left the gun since he had first seen it.

“Did ya wanna shoot while ya wait?” Ironhide asked, gesturing to the rifle. Shyly, Bluestreak nodded, putting his notebook down on a chair that was beside him before slowly walking over.

He knew Ironhide, and he liked him. He’d often come over to the apartment to see Prowl, as apparently they had been friends for a long time, and more than once had gone out to watch a game with him.

Carefully accepting the gun as Ironhide handed it to him, he copied Ironhides pose, corrected it where instructed, took aim and fired.

* * *

 

“Ya are _not_ gunna believe this!” Ironhide exclaimed as he burst into Prowls office with little more than a quick knock.

Prowl jumped at his sudden intrusion before frowning. “What’s happened?”

“He’s a natural. Seriously Prowl, when did ya start teachin’ him?”

“Teach who? What’s going on?” Prowl demanded, slowly standing.

“Well, Blue of course!” Ironhide barely restrained a laugh. “Ah let him have a go on the snipers rifle an’ Ah don’t think Ah’ve seen anyone shoot so well on their first go.”

“You let him operate a _gun_?!” Prowl hissed, quickly pushing past Ironhide and stalking towards the firing range. “Who’s with him now? If you’ve left him on his own it will be most painful for you ‘Hide!”

“Hound’s with him. He was lookin’ for Hound, it’s how he ended up in the firing range. He showed an interest in the rifle an’ Ah thought Ah’d let him have a go.”

A few moments later, Prowl rounded the corner to the firing range and stalked in to see-

A pile of paper sheets in the corner, each displaying a headshot or another fatal blow. Prowl knelt down and picked one up. Had he aimed for these spots?

He looked around at Bluestreak when he heard the gun fire again. He quickly reloaded the bullet, and Prowl saw that he already had a bruise on his thumb from reloading too quickly and getting it caught.

The sheet of paper that he had been aiming at sported another headshot.

Bluestreak hadn’t even noticed the sound of the doors opening, and by the looks of it nor had he noticed Ironhide leaving. He looked incredibly relaxed and at ease, going with the tide instead of trying to fight against it.

“Bluestreak.” Prowl said to gain his attention. Bluestreak jumped, not realizing that the man was in the room, and immediately put the safety on the gun and turned to look at him.

“Dad?”

The corners of Prowls mouth twitched upwards, a reaction he hadn’t managed to control yet, while Ironhide full on ‘aww’ed. The two of them ignored him. Hound was in the next aisle, taking aim at his own sheet of paper.

“You have excellent aim.”

“Thank you.” Bluestreak replied with a bright smile that almost rivaled Jazz’s. “It’s my first time, and Ironhide said that I’m really good at it considering I’ve never done it before and that I should consider doing it more often and it relaxes me a lot and I enjoy it as it gives me something to focus on and-“

Prowl stopped listening as he slowly turned to glare at Ironhide.

“He said _what_?”

“Ironhide said that should consider doing it more often.”

“Is that so?” Prowl asked, raising an eyebrow at Ironhide. Ironhide felt with a sinking feeling that he was going to be in quite a bit of trouble when Bluestreak was out of the room.

“Ah may have?”

“Bluestreak, go back to Wheeljacks lab and continue with your studies. You’ve had enough of a break. We can talk about this when you’re done.”

Bluestreak nodded and handed the rifle back to Ironhide before taking his notes back to Wheeljacks lab. Prowl narrowed his eyes at Ironhide.

“If he gets any ideas about enlisting in the army, it’ll be your neck.”

“Ah don’t see why you’re so against it. He clearly enjoys handling a rifle-“

“He’s enjoying shooting a _gun_ against a _paper_ target. I don’t want him fighting.”

“If he does we can keep ‘im off the front lines. He’s too young to fight there anyway, he needs ta be seventeen.”

“Seventeen _and_ with a guardians permission, which is me or Jazz. Which he won’t be getting.”

“Yeah, and when he’s eighteen you can’t say shit.”

Prowl frowned at him. He was right.


	14. Graveyard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set waaaaaay into the future.

There was a thick blanket of snow on the ground as Bluestreak got out of the car.

The over-excited puppy on the end of its leash immediately attempted to bolt the moment its paws sunk in, the snow easily swallowing its legs, but Bluestreak held fast.

Sunstreaker killed the engine and got out from the other side, closing his car door behind him.

He was holding a bouquet of snowdrops.

“You ready?” He asked, falling into step with Bluestreak as they walked down the path towards the churchyard.

Bluestreak nodded. “I think so.”

Knowing he wouldn’t be getting any other answer, Sunstreaker didn’t press the issue.

Every year on the very same day Bluestreak was adopted, the two would go to the churchyard and visit someone. They had the way there memorized.

Down the path. Second left. Right. Then, down to the middle, the one with the flat top.

Kneeling down in front of the gravestone, Bluestreak handed the leash to Sunstreaker and brushed the snow away.

Sunstreaker was never one to talk to the graves of loved ones, but as it turned out Bluestreak was. Silently handing Bluestreak the bouquet of snowdrops, Sunstreaker took the puppy away to frolic around in the snow elsewhere and not spray it everywhere. It’d be distracting.

And Bluestreak blabbered away to the gravestone the way only he could. Sunstreaker was preoccupied with the puppy for a few moments as it had found something interesting to chew, and when he turned around again he could have sworn that he saw Prowl standing behind Bluestreak, hand on his shoulder.

But there were no footprints.

Sunstreaker silently berated himself, blinking rapidly and looking away. There was no way Prowl could have been there, he was imagining things.

Prowl was dead.

When he looked back, Prowl was gone and Bluestreak was looking at him.

Realizing that he was being called over, Sunstreaker walked back over to Bluestreak and knelt down beside him, ignoring the icy bite of the snow.

There was a fine dusting of snow coating Bluestreaks hair, a few flakes in his eyelashes. Without Sunstreaker realizing, so lost in his thoughts as he was, it had started snowing.

The puppy bounded over, immediately trying to get into Bluestreaks lap.

“Ready to go?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

It was the only answer he was expecting. Bluestreak didn’t like to cry at the grave.

It was when he was finally back in the warmth and comfort of the car, heated seat on and hot air blowing out of the fans that Bluestreak began to cry, holding his puppy close to his chest. There were frozen balls of snow clinging to the dogs’ underside but Bluestreak didn’t seem to care.

Sunstreaker silently continued to drive. Bluestreak always complained after if Sunstreaker pulled over in order to comfort him, so he’d always decided to wait until they had pulled up into the driveway at home.

Two hours later found them curled up on the sofa, Bluestreak clutching a hot chocolate covered in cream and marshmallows while Sunstreaker nursed his own coffee, the movie ‘Ponyo’ playing in the background.

“I miss him.” Bluestreak said quietly.

“We all do.” Sunstreaker replied, silently allowing Bluestreak to lean against him. The puppy waddled in, snow long defrosted away with a bowl of hot water and a sponge. Selecting its seat on Bluestreaks lap, the dog settled down, head resting on Sunstreaker. It looked up at Sunstreaker with its big eyes, begging for attention.

Bluestreak absently reached down and started to scratch behind the puppys ears. “I wonder how Jazz is? Do you think I should call him?”

“I can get the phone when you’re ready.” Sunstreaker replied. Usually, Jazz would come with them. This time however, he’d finally fallen to the common cold and First Aid was making sure he didn’t leave the house. Sunstreaker silently speculated that Alessia was helping him.

It was too cold outside for Jazz.

“Thank you.” Bluestreak replied, relaxing against Sunstreaker as he took a sip from his hot chocolate, a mustache of cream being left behind. The puppy made to get up and lick it off, but Bluestreak beat them to it.

“You can’t have cream, you know that!” Bluestreak teased in his baby voice, booping the puppy on the nose. The dog attempted a growl, which sounded more like a squeaky toy being trodden on, prompting laughter from the pair on the sofa.


	15. Theme Park

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slightly NSFW. Nothing too fancy, though.

Waking up early in the morning with the days first light streaming through the thin lace curtains reminded him of his grandmothers house.

Now, however, he'd be able to associate it with another memory. Curled up to his side, sound asleep, was someone who he never thought would be. Jazz sighed in his sleep, face turning to press into Prowls shoulder, the arm that had been thrown over Prowl tightening for a moment before he settled.

Yep. Never even imagined it.

It had all started when the pair looked at an advert for a theme park. It was too far away to make it a day trip - they'd have to stay somewhere overnight - so they quickly found a cheap hotel close by and planned their little holiday. It didn't take much to convince Optimus and Ironhide to come along too, and soon Ratchet and Wheeljack had found themselves pulled in.

The drive there was eventful, what with Jazz's music and his passion for singing along. Prowl nearly lost his temper twice with the volume, Ratchet _did_ lose his temper and they nearly lost a bottle of water because of it and Optimus silently continued to drive and ignore the bickering children behind him while Ironhide snored away in the shotgun seat. Wheeljack found himself awkwardly sat in the back, hoping he didn't get noticed and dragged into the mess.

He didn't, and luckily before Ratchet had decided Ironhide had slept enough, Optimus announced that they had arrived.

Out of the kindness of his heart, Optimus had handled the hotel. And boy did he handle it. Instead of the suspicious motel with an oddly coloured pool that Prowl and Jazz were thinking of braving, Optimus had found an acceptable hotel that included restaurants, a pool and a spa area.

It was by no means extravagant, but it was more than any of the others could have hoped for.

Room keys collected, the 6 tromped up the stairs and to their rooms. Prowl and Jazz had been treated to a double room to themselves, much to Ratchets amusement and Ironhide's glee, while the other four took a bigger room on the floor above that held four people. Agreeing to meet in an hour for dinner, Prowl and Jazz entered their room.

Prowls suitcase hadn't been tampered with, everything he put in as he left it & no surprises waiting for him. Jazz, on the other hand, _did_ have a surprise waiting for him. The moment he saw the suggestively shaped bottle, he swore he was going to kill his sister.

To make matters even worse, when Prowl heard Jazz squeak loudly in embarrassment, he had come over to investigate.

"Is that what I think it is?" Prowl asked, kneeling down beside the suitcase. Jazz simply picked up the bottle between his index finger and thumb, eyes narrowing.

"This has Jess written all over it." He grumbled, dropping it back in again.

Prowl snickered, poorly hiding his amusement. "She must have overheard you complaining on the phone about how you haven't had any-"

"Yes yes, okay! No need ta embarrass meh any more Prowler!" Jazz squeaked, cheeks reddening. "Bad enough that she _knows_ we've had sex, she's now doin' this!"

"Well, call her after dinner. They're expecting us now."

* * *

 

The pair were the first to arrive, so they took it upon themselves to secure a table. As it was the summer and so warm outside, they decided that they should sit outside and make the most of the sunshine.

They'd almost forgotten what kind of looks they'd get if they did anything that breeched friendship together. Hand holding was most certainly out of the question, as was anything else that came with being in a relationship, and it was hard to ignore the glares they received from the other guests.

Soon the others arrived, and a few well-placed glares and disapproving looks from the other four had the group being largely ignored.

After eating their dinner of three pizzas shared between the 6 of them, Prowl and Jazz bade them goodnight and left for their room together. Ironhide couldn't help but make a few crude comments which Wheeljack snickered at while Optimus and Ratchet shared an exasperated look.

* * *

 

Jazz never did get round to leaving his sister a nasty answer phone message.

The moment they were inside their room, Prowl had started to remove his shirt, carefully unbuttoning it so none of the buttons became loose. Jazz was transfixed and only just realised that he was staring when he realised Prowl had stopped and was staring right back at him.

An eyebrow slowly raised at him.

"Can I help?"

"Would ya rather Ah took that off?"

Prowl looked surprised and was about to say he could take it off perfectly fine himself when he realised the look Jazz had in his eye meant he was enjoying what he saw, and he wanted to get a closer look.

"Most definitely." Prowl replied, shifting to sit down on the edge of the bed.

Almost immediately he could feel the warm weight of Jazz in his lap, fingers fumbling with the buttons while he slowly pressed kisses along Prowls jaw.

"Don't you think we should wait until the watershed starts & the children in the next room are asleep?" Prowl asked, moving to start removing Jazz's shirt despite his words.

"We can be quiet."

"Quiet isn't something you do."

"Hush, lover." The words sent tingles up Prowls spine. "Ah've got plans fer ya."

* * *

 

The eerie silence from next door prompted Prowl and Jazz to stop and wait until they were sure their neighbours were actually asleep before going any further.

As it was, both were shirtless already, faces flushed with belts unbuckled. In an attempt to get his mind off the throbbing heat in between his legs, Jazz had started to tackle his unpacking again, dutifully ignoring the bottle and the other smaller foil packages that he had later found under it.

Prowl wasn't making this easy for him. He had managed to wriggle his way underneath Jazz, forcing him to sit on his lap, and was tracing patterns on his exposed chest with one hand while the other was simply thrown over his waist.

"Do ya really have ta, Prowler?" Jazz whined, attempting to wriggle away. Prowl tensed, tracings faltering as Jazz's movements caused heat to bloom again.

"Yes. Yes I do."

"No. No ya don't."

Prowl ignored him and began to press kisses up his neck and along what jaw he could get to. Jazz shuddered, packing forgotten as he reached back behind him and buried his hands in Prowls hair, pulling him closer.

"Prowl, ya tease. Ya're the one who suggested we wait."

"If you really want to, we can take a cold shower. Otherwise, you can listen carefully."

"Listen ta what?"

"I haven't heard the people in the room next to us in a while, have you?"

Jazz listened carefully, and sure enough he heard nothing. "Do ya think they went ta sleep?"

"I think they're gone entirely."

Jazz quickly wriggled out of Prowls lap, which he readily allowed, and pulled on a t-shirt to stay presentable as he quickly opened his door to look at the neighbours.

Sure enough, there was a sign hanging on the handle indicating it needed to be cleaned.

Jazz casually locked the door behind him, stripped off the t-shirt and straddled Prowls lap.

"Right again, Prowler."

"They were too quiet for a family of three children."

Jazz silenced him with a kiss to the lips, hands sliding up Prowl from the waist to wrap around his shoulders and play with his hair. In return, Prowl pulled his legs tighter around him and wrapped his arms around his back, one hand reaching up to bury itself in the dreadlocks atop Jazz's head.

* * *

 

All Prowl could think of as the tight, hot heat wrapped around him was that they didn't do this nearly enough.

He didn't know why they didn't - although at the back of his mind he did and he didn't want to think about that while he was surrounded by a very delicate area - and he found himself wanting to rectify that.

Jazz was panting heavily, still becoming accustomed to the sensation of having Prowl inside him. It was a strange feeling, but he couldn't get enough of it. Making eye contact with Prowl, Jazz rolled his hips to signal the okay.

* * *

 

Prowl couldn't get enough of it when Jazz reached his peak.

Whether it was a slow build, like it was now, or a fast build, it was always the beautifulest sight he could see. The way his eyes misted over and the babble of nonsense that always came before. His mouth would form an 'O', and  any sounds that came out would purely be of Prowls name.

And the twitching and shudders that came after.

Even now, wrapped around each other and the blanket, Prowl couldn't help but think there was nowhere else he'd rather be.

And when Jazz mumbled in his sleep and wriggled closer? Even more so.

* * *

 

The next morning Jazz woke up with a zonked out Prowl cuddling him to his chest. He very nearly took a photo- in fact, the only thing that stopped him was the fact that he couldn't reach his phone without waking up Prowl. There was also the fact that he very, very rarely got to see Prowl asleep. The man always woke up before him.

He couldn't help but trace over their features, marvelling in the softness of his face and how defined his features were. Jazz knew that many found Prowl to be very attractive, and it took every ounce of his self control to not stalk up to Prowl and very publicly claim him as his own.

"That tickles."

Jazz jumped, not realising Prowl was awake. "Sorry, Ah didn't know ya were awake."

Prowl just sleepily grumbled, rolling so he was face down. "I was asleep..."

"Then go back."

Prowl was silent for a few moments, and Jazz thought he had fallen asleep again when he suddenly rolled over, pinning Jazz down to the bed.

"Wha- Prowl!" Jazz whined, pushing at him fruitlessly. Prowl mumbled sleepily, not moving.

"Get off ya fat lug!" Jazz hissed, shoving the other to the floor. Prowl yelped, fixing Jazz with a harsh glare when he had landed.

"I was _trying_ to sleep."

"An' Ah was tryin' ta _breathe_!"

Prowl huffed and crawled into the other bed. It was cold, yes, but at least there would be no Jazz's to wake him up.

A few moments later, when Prowl was nearly asleep again, Jazz quietly picked up his phone and crept towards Prowl. Slowly and gently, he got up onto his bed and straddled his waist, opening up the camera on his phone and beginning to record a video.

"Prowler? It's time ta wake up."

"Five more minutes." He sleepily grumbled, not bothering to open his eyes as he covered them with his arm.

"But what about the theme park?"

"Five more."

Jazz pulled away his arm. "Please?"

Prowl didn't reply, but instead rolled over, arm coming up to pull Jazz down so he lay down next to him. That same arm quickly found itself thrown over Jazz's stomach.

"You'd better not be filming this." He sleepily replied, eyes finally cracking open. Before Jazz had a chance to hide his phone, Prowl had spotted it and was up faster than Jazz could press a button.

And he did the first thing that came to mind.

He threw his phone.

"Not filmin'!" He cheerily replied, pressing a loud kiss onto Prowls cheek as he slipped away to retrieve his phone and stop the recording. Prowl watched him with a frown, hair sticking up in all directions.

The last thing Jazz managed to record was an enraged Prowl taking a flying leap at him.

* * *

 

The theme park was packed with people, and Prowl was glad he had the foresight to buy fast track passes so they didn’t have to wait. Jazz was excitable and very hard to keep entertained while in a queue, and it saved everyone the headache.

The first ride Jazz laid eyes on was the first ride Prowl found himself dragged onto.

It wasn’t the rides that made the day. No, it was the photos after. Every ride they went on they bought the photo for, and back at the hotel the six of them sat around a table in a restaurant and looked at all of them.

In every single ride save for one, Prowl had a straight face and looked almost robotic and emotionless. Jazz, on the other hand, had a look of glee on his face that was usually exaggerated, arms thrown up in the air with his eyes wide. A number of times, his glasses could be seen rising up and off his face.

Ratchet was usually holding onto whoever he was next to or the safety bars, but appeared to be enjoying himself. Ironhide just looked unimpressed the whole way, pretending to be asleep in many of the photos. Optimus and Wheeljack on the other hand threw their arms up and looked as though they were screaming in all of them, although the reasons were varied.

It was the very last ride that they went on where everyone’s expression was different. Very different.

The ride itself was inside a large building, decorated in purple and black paint and spooky depictions of zombies, skeletons and various animals. They all thought nothing of it – there were children lining up to go inside after all. It couldn’t have been _that_ bad.

They missed the warnings and the sign that informed the riders of the age restriction as they walked passed, there being no queue for fast track pass holders. The lighting inside was poor, and they couldn’t see that far in front of them. Jazz found himself walking as close to Prowl as possible, discretely holding onto his hand. Prowl allowed it and continued to walk behind the meat shield that was Ironhide.

The way the carriages worked was that people went on in pairs. It was easy to see that Jazz would be going on with Prowl, leaving the other four to quickly pair up. Optimus found himself with Ironhide, while Wheeljack had quickly gone for Ratchet. The attendant for the ride didn’t give them a second glance as he allowed them on.

To begin with, it was tame. Then, five seconds in, there was a sudden vertical drop. That marked the moment Jazz knew he had made a big, big mistake, and nothing in the world could have stopped him from latching onto Prowl and not letting go.

Prowl himself was shocked by the sudden drop, even more so by the sudden pressure on his arm, but it quickly passed when they shot backwards and began spinning.

The ride continued in pitch darkness, the only sounds being screams and cackling laughter. Occasionally, there would be a wet sound accompanied with the sound of something brittle shattering and they would be sprayed with what they hoped was water. And if they thought being unable to see was bad, the strobe lighting that followed after a sudden leap upwards was even worse. They saw flashes of grisly scenes, scary faces and of people simply staring at them, faces devoid of emotion.

Jazz didn’t remember what else happened, but the others agreed that they didn’t want to think about it any time soon. He had just shut his eyes and hoped that it would be over soon.

The photos they received were the highlight of the day. Prowl had finally shown a new expression – he was laughing hard, watching Jazz as he looked absolutely _terrified_. Nobody had seen him look that scared since a Halloween party three years ago when somebody dressed as a werewolf had suddenly jumped out of a closet. Ratchet looked unimpressed, almost bored, while Wheeljack had pulled a face as though he were about to scream.

Ironhide’s eyes were wide, his mouth slightly open. Optimus had squished his eyes shut; one hand coming up to cover his mouth while the other was clutched on the safety bar.

Jazz had immediately attempted to destroy his own photo – Prowl laughing was cute, granted, but he looked ridiculous! However, his shoulders slumped and he admitted defeat when Prowl held it up and out of reach before brandishing a fridge magnet with the very same photo on it.


	16. Seaside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set in the past, when Jazz was a wee lad.

The drive down was forgiving.

Windows rolled down, a cool wind blowing through Jazz’s hair as he leaned his head out of the window. Green, rolling hills gave way to small towns teeming with life and brightly coloured flowers.

While many opted to take the motorways to reach the seaside, Jazz’s parents had decided that the scenic route was the way to go. For starters, you simply didn’t get the jams that would have you sitting still in traffic for hours on end in the stifling heat. Instead of pulling into a service station or to the side of the road to stop for a break or for lunch, you could find a little café instead where it was much less crowded and queues were non-existent.

Jess, Jazz’s older sister, spent the vast majority of the drive reading books on her kindle. Jack simply slept, having not slept the night before so he could do so. Jazz had simply plugged in his headphones and watched the world go by.

The house they had rented for a week was quaint, consisting of two floors and a wooden roof. The windows had shutters, and there was a private garden. Upon further investigation, a barbeque was discovered, along with all manner of deck chairs and questionable tables.

As usual, a thorough inspection of the kitchen revealed that they’d need to be buying a new frying pan as the one provided was truly disgraceful, and a can opener. It had happened so many times they were beginning to wonder why they didn’t bring their own.

Jess was quick to secure the room that overlooked the garden, and in the distance the sea could be seen. Jack and Jazz bickered over the two single rooms that were left, the end result being Jazz pinned to the floor by his older brother who promptly started sitting on him, leaning over his face in preparation to spit. Jazz had shrieked and shoved him off, accepting the undesired room.

It was set further away from the other bedrooms, and was slightly colder, however he couldn’t hear the washing machine downstairs as it rumbled and shook, nor could he hear the cockerel next door as it called the days sunrise.

It was Jess gently shaking him the next day that woke him up. As he blearily rubbed the sleep from his eyes, she told him that they were going to the beach and that he’d better start getting ready and packing his things if they wanted to get a good spot.

* * *

 

He had a small bag on his back, similar to the draw-stringed bags he’d use to carry his P.E kit to school in, that contained his ever-present iPod, a bottle of Sprite, a book and a hastily rolled beach towel. In the kitchen, his mother was packing a cooler bag with what he presumed would be their lunch for that day while his father was washing up. Jack could be heard outside, calling for them to hurry up.

Not long after that saw them all sat in the car again, Jess happily chatting away to Jack about how excited she was to be able to surf again, while Jazz wondered if he’d be dragged into that this year.

He had tried it a few years ago, and it didn’t end too well for him. The third time his head ended up embedded in the sand, he decided that surfing was most likely not for him and that he should find another hobby at the beach.

As it turned out, it was climbing the cliffs or exploring the rock pools.

None of them registered that the tide was fully out until they had arrived. Deciding that it was no big deal and would come in quickly, they set up their spot. Towels were lain down, an umbrella stabbed into the sand to provide shade. Jazz dumped his bag down before setting off down the beach, heading towards where the water should be.

The sand felt different, and shells were abundant. Rounded pebbles of varying colours and sizes littered the floor. Jazz continued walking, ignoring how the gravel-like texture stabbed and hurt his feet.

It was cold, very cold, and a misty fog wrapped around the beach. When Jazz looked back, he couldn’t see the brightly coloured umbrella that marked where his family were.

He wasn’t too bothered. They wouldn’t be going any were any time soon, and so long as he walked in a straight line they would easily be found again.

In the distance, there was a dark shape that slowly grew more defined the closer Jazz got. He broke out into a run, going towards the object.

It was the size of a small car, bright red and on a very long chain.

A buoy.

That was when Jazz knew that he may have gone out too far. Looking around, he saw a similarly shaped shadow, and he could hear the sea. Not wanting to go back, not just yet, Jazz stayed where he was, picking up shells and carefully inspecting them. When he pulled one out from the sand and a hunk of moist sand came with it, he leaned down and washed it in the water that was ticking his ankles-

That was not there five minutes ago.

The sea had caught up to him, and Jazz knew that it was time to leave. Quickly dropping the shell, he began to quickly walk back. Thankfully, he moved faster than the tide did, and he was safely back to where his parents were before the sea was close enough to be heard again.

Seeing how his ankles were wet, feet caked in sand, his mother promptly scolded him for going to far out. Jazz chose to not mention that he had reached the buoys. His parents would be _livid_.

Jess had somehow managed to find a shop that rented out surfboards and wetsuits, and had quickly left after pulling one on to find where the best waves were. Jack followed her not long after, leaving Jazz to wonder what he should do with himself.

After some prodding from his father, he ventured towards the rock pools.

The tide had left all manner of things in the natural pools, ranging from fish to sea snails to urchins. Beautiful shells that shimmered and glittered lay at the bottom of them, teasing Jazz. He was tempted to jump in and retrieve them, but he decided not to. Water was often deceptive, and the pools tended to be deeper than you thought.

He clambered over the rocks, his fingers slightly sore as he slipped on the slimy surface. There was nobody else – he silently guessed it was because it was still so early in the morning and parents were reluctant to let their children clamber upon the rocks so soon after breakfast – so he wasn’t worried that he would slip and make a fool of himself.

Unfortunately for him, he was not as lucky as he thought and had promptly slipped down and into a pool after that thought. The sound of laughter alerted him to the fact that he was very much _not_ alone.

Looking up he saw a girl no older than he was, scruffy sandy blonde hair pulled back into a messy plait. She reached forwards, still laughing as she offered to help him up. Jazz accepted the help, huffing in embarrassment.

“Ah didn’ think anyone was here.” He said, wringing out his t-shirt. “M’names Jazz. What’s yours?”

“Sarah.” She replied, thick accent native to the area. Obviously a local. “You’re not from around here, are ya?”

“Nah, Ah’m from further north.”

“You’re pretty good at climbing these. You come here often?”

“Once a year.” Jazz replied, re-adjusting his t-shirt once he’d managed to wring it all out.

“I live here.” She replied, turning and pointing to one of the houses that dotted the coast. It had a bright blue roof. “That’s my house.”

“Isn’t it noisy?” Jazz asked, looking at how close it was to the beach.

“Eh, ya get used to it. It’s not so bad.”

The pair spent the next few hours climbing on the rocks together, finding shells and all manner of sea creatures in the pools. Sarah appeared to be hunting for certain shells, and as Jazz had no other reason to collect them he helped her instead. It was only when Jess suddenly appeared at his side when Jazz realised the sun was already high in the sky, directly above them.

“Jazz!” she called, hoisting herself up. “Come on, dad wants you. Apparently you’ve been gone a while.”

“Ah’ll see ya later.” Jazz said to Sarah, following his sister back down the rocks.

“You’d be better going towards the cliff and getting down there.” She replied, pointing the way. “It’s not as steep.”

Jess thanked her before pulling her brother along behind her.

* * *

 

As Jazz licked his lips he could taste the salt from the sea. His skin felt dry and somewhat tight, but he knew that after a quick shower in fresh, clean water it would go away. Jess’s hair faired no better, it feeling wiry to the touch and becoming frizzy. She didn’t particularly care, and was intending to surf again once her food had gone down.

Jazz was handed a baguette the length of his forearm, and it was stuffed with cream cheese and cucumber. With the help of his sister, he had managed to crush it down so it was flat enough for him to get his mouth around.

* * *

 

 Jazz blinked as he watched Prowl cut the baguette. He hadn’t seen one of those in _years_ , and it always reminded him of one thing.

“We’ve _gotta_ go to the beach.”

Prowl turned to look at him, eyebrow raised in a quizzical expression. “What’s brought that on?”

Jazz shrugged, not sure how to word it. “Ah just think we should go.”

Prowl returned to cutting the bread, handing it on a plate to Jazz when he was done. “I’ll think about it.”

‘I’ll think about it’ almost always translated into ‘yes’, and Jazz fist pumped the air. He hadn’t been to the beach since he was a teenager! He’d almost forgotten how sand felt on the bottom of his feet and the way it caked him when it was wet, the sound of the sea and the stinging of standing in a breaking wave as sand and shells were dragged over your feet.

“Thank ya!” Jazz shouted, immediately hugging Prowl and ignoring the plate that had been handed to him.

Prowl huffed. “I never said yes.”

“But ya thinkin’ about it.” The fact that a yes went by unsaid wasn’t mentioned, but both parties knew of it.


	17. Gunshot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning for violence.

It was the faint scent of perfume that had attracted Prowls attention.

There hadn't been anyone who wore perfume in the apartment for days now, the last person being Chromia when she popped over with Ironhide to see Bluestreak & talk to him about his rifle. As a precaution it stayed on base and never left Prowls office unless it was going to the firing range, and it was a rule that was strictly followed.

Since then, they had been cleaning and the smell of cleaning products had soon wiped away all traces of the sweet perfume Chromia wore.

So why could Prowl smell it?

He looked down at the shirt he was holding, pausing a few moments before gingerly sniffing it.

The smell was much, much stronger.

The shirt wasn't Prowls - it had short sleeves and a suspicious stain in the front pocket that looked like it may be red ink. It was Jazz's.

Why did it smell like perfume?

Deciding that it was most likely from a client, Prowl ignored it and continued to load the washing machine.

* * *

 

Prowl hated ironing.

He could never get it just right, there always being a random crease here and there. Any attempts to iron it out resulted in the other side being ruined, and he would find himself going in circles in an attempt to fix it. Jazz was much better at it.

So Prowl would do the hanging up instead.

It was during this when Prowl spotted a long, ginger hair on one of Jazz's suit jackets. If his memory served him right, this was the suit jacket he had worn the other night when he'd come in incredibly late, two hours before Prowls alarm was due to go off.

And that was when the gears started turning.

Was Jazz..?

No. No, he couldn't be.

He wouldn't.

... Would he? He'd done it before. What would stop him from doing it again?

Prowl quickly shut the wardrobe door.

* * *

 

Maybe he was.

Prowl waited for Jazz yet again, the man late getting back home after a shift at base. He had already started cooking after Bluestreak had started rummaging in the fridge for something to graze on to stave off the feeling of hunger. Bluestreak was working on preparing various things while Prowl kept an eye on the pots and pans on the stove.

Hours later, Jazz still was not home. Prowl had long ago stopped hoping and had silently cracked open a bottle of brandy and was calmly sipping away at a glass of it. Bluestreak sipped at his own lemonade, the bubbles tickling his tongue.

A deep ache Prowl had nearly forgotten about panged through his chest, wave after wave of it spreading out through him. He hated this. He hated not knowing.

There was a nagging sensation at the back of his mind that something wasn't right. Prowl desperately wanted to trust Jazz, but something screamed at him that he couldn't.

He sighed and suddenly stood, making Bluestreak jump.

"I am going to bed now. Don't stay up too late." Prowl said, stooping down so Bluestreak could plant a kiss on his cheek like he always did.

"Goodnight, dad. Ill try not to." He cheekily replied, flomping back down onto the sofa. Prowl shook his head as he picked up the bottle of alcohol and left the room, walking past the kitchen and going straight to his room. He wasn't going to go to bed sober, he knew that much.

* * *

 

A few more weeks passed and Jazz was still being late or not turning up at all. When questioned, he simply replied with work.

It had never been this bad before, and even with a mission there wouldn't be enough files for him to go through to justify how busy Jazz appeared to be.

Bluestreak woke up with a start as he realised he could hear someone shouting. A few moments later, he realised it was Prowl.

He couldn't tell what he was saying - the walls muffled it too much - but he knew that Prowl wasn't happy. Bluestreak didn't feel the need to ponder who was on the receiving end.

Sighing and rolling over, he tried to go back to sleep, however that thought was cut short when he heard his bedroom door open. He looked around and saw Prowl standing there.

He looked exhausted, both physically and emotionally.

"Sorry, did I wake you?"

"Don't worry, my alarm's about to go off anyway." Bluestreak sleepily replied. Prowl glanced at the clock and saw that it read 1am.

He decided to not comment on that.

"Go back to sleep, we're going to see Alessia tomorrow. You may have to stay with her for a while."

"What?!" Bluestreak suddenly shot up, wide awake. "Why? Not that I don't like her or anything she's lovely and she makes really good pasta and hot chocolate and her house always smells nice although her boyfriend is a little scary but I don't think It'll be too good for me if I'm not with you-"

"Bluestreak, remember to breathe." Prowl replied as he sat down on the end of his bed. "I have to go on placement to another base to train the new tacticians - it'll only take a few weeks, and ill be back before you know it."

"W-what about Jazz?"

The small smile Prowl had faltered. "I don't know about him. Ill tell him where you are, but I want to make sure you're somewhere safe."

"Will Sunstreaker know where I am?"

"Yes, he's got the address and phone number."

Prowl didn't like how close the pair appeared to be and how Bluestreak could only calm down in stressful situations with Sunstreaker in the room, but remembering what had caused Bluestreak to be this way made him grateful it wasn't any worse.

"Okay" Bluestreak mumbled in reply before face planting into his pillow, closely followed by a tired grumble.

"I'll see you in the morning." Prowl said, pressing a kiss to the top of Bluestreaks head before standing and leaving, quietly closing the door behind him.

* * *

 

Alessias house always smelled like oranges.

It was Samuel, Alessias boyfriend, who greeted them at the door. Prowl clearly had a degree of dislike for them, but everyone knew it was simply because Samuel indulged in gambling far too often, and Prowls history in the police.

Other than that, they had gotten on just fine. So long as Samuel didn't teach Bluestreak to gamble.

Alessia herself was in the guest bedroom, fighting with the fitted sheets. Taking pity upon her, Prowl began to help while Bluestreak moved the suitcase he'd packed into the room and gave words of encouragement.

Prowl appreciated the sentiment until Samuel joined in.

Just before a fight broke out and Alessia needed to find the frozen peas (like last time), the sheets were done & Bluestreak had ushered Samuel out with the excuse of finding where the shops were, for which Prowl was grateful for. With Bluestreak not in the house, Prowl could speak with Alessia and not give her the watered down version like he did on the phone.

Although he tried his hardest to not give in to the suffocating feeling that had wrapped around his chest, crushing it, he couldn't stop the prickly feeling in his eyes and the watery look he gained as he spoke, his voice becoming choked up.

"I don't get what I'm doing wrong." Prowl weakly admitted, staring down at his hands. "He's not answering my calls and very rarely my texts, he's not willing to talk about it and he's not telling me the truth- I just don't know what to do anymore."

"Did he say when his assignment was going to end?"

"He said he didn't know. He says he's taking more and more on and that there's so much work, but any assignment he gets I _have_ to know about. I'm SIC, none of them bypass me."

"Well a few do, the real top-secret ones."

"I know when they're in action, I just don't know anything about them. Helps with organising troops if it goes wrong."

"And none have gone past you?"

"None at all."

"I don't know what to say. You really do need to corner him, Prowl."

"He's unpredictable, I can't make a plan to do so."

Alessia hummed, taking a sip of her tea. "Maybe his family could help? Have you spoken to his sister?"

"Not yet." Prowl admitted. "It just seems wrong to drag others into this. I feel bad enough now-"

"You have good reason to. Blue can't be left on his own if Jazz is barely returning, and you'll worry if he's on his own. You need all the concentration you have for this training."

"Still, I truly am sorry. Jazz is usually the one I go to if I have problems, but..."

"I know Prowl, I know. It's fine, makes me feel like we're still in that dinky cupboard you called your bedroom when you were a teen." She teased, reaching forwards to pull Prowl into a hug. Prowl leaned towards her, allowing the contact.

Before Prowl had moved out, and even for a little while after, himself and Alessia were no strangers to being sat on Prowls bed, TV on as background noise while they wrapped themselves in blankets and bitched about everything and anything. If Jazz was over, he'd be sat there too and joining in. To begin with, while Alessia was still a small child, it was more one sided, but as she got older she could join in more and more.

"My room was not a cupboard."

"You were one staircase short of Harry Potter."

Prowl huffed, not having a reply. "Are you sure it's okay that you look after Blue? I have no idea how long I'll be."

"Sure, I've been meaning to steal him away for ages. I promise he won't be taught how to gamble."

Prowl rolled his eyes. "Just remember about... What happened. Sunstreaker will probably be a common sight."

Alessia's eyes darkened. "I remember. If I ever get my hands on those boys..."

"Don't bring it up around him or make him remember, okay?" Prowl said, wiping away a stray tear. Alessia's expression softened.

"I won't. When do you leave?"

"Early tomorrow morning. I start actually training them the day after that."

Alessia nodded. "Just... try and talk to him, okay? You won't be able to concentrate if you haven't."

"I'll try." Prowl promised, shrugging on his jacket as he heard footsteps coming up to the front door. Seconds later, the sound of a key sliding in and the lock slipping out of place was heard.

"We're back!"

* * *

 

Jessica's number was one almost engrained into the phone. The numbers on the phone had almost been worn away with how many times they were pressed. "We'll have to replace the buttons." Prowl absently thought as he tapped in the numbers.

The dial tone seemed to last forever as Prowls stomach tied itself in knots, but Jess picked up.

"Hello?"

"Hello Jess, it's Prowl."

"Oh hiya Prowl! How are ya? Is Blue okay? How's Jazz?"

Prowls chest tightened. "Blue is okay, he's with my sister at the moment."

"Are ya havin' problems?"

"Not us and Blue, no. I'm going out of town, but Jazz... Is never here anymore."

"Did ya fight or somethin'?" Jess replied, the sound of her sitting on a squeaky seat reaching through the phone.

"No, we didn't. I don't know what happened, but he seems to be avoiding me. And lairing. Things we were planning for months I get stood up on."

"Oh he's gunna get a stern talkin' to, that's for sure." Jess growled. "Ah take it ya wanted ta know where he was?"

"I was hoping you knew."

"Ah don't, but Ah will. Ah'm gunna hunt his sorry ass."

Prowl couldn't help but laugh. Jess was a force to be reckoned with, she found _everything_ she looked for. Prowl was somewhat grateful that she was a spy who was on their side.

"I trust that you will. Do you still have the address to Alessia's?"

"Ah most certainly do! Girls a treat! Ya did good, Prowl."

He was glad she couldn't see him blush. "I'm glad you see her that way. I have to go now, but when you find Jazz, can you tell him that Blue's there? He might be having kittens if he can't find him."

"Sure, after Ah've had ma merry way with him."

"Thanks, Jess. I appreciate it."

"Anytime!"

Phone call over, Prowl set about packing his bag. He didn't know how long he'd be, but there were definitely washing facilities on the base. Maybe if he packed ten of everything?

A knock on the door distracted him. Putting the clothes down onto the bed, he opened the front door to see a woman standing there holding a jacket that looked suspiciously like one of Jazz's.

The first thing Prowl noticed was that he recognised the perfume.

"Can I help?" Prowl asked. He didn't recognise her.

"Hi, I'm Jazz's girlfriend. He left this over last night."

Prowl started. Wow. Ouch?

"Thank you." Prowl said, taking the jacket from her. "He's not here right now, unfortunately."

"That's okay, I was heading over to work anyway. I take it you're his flat mate?"

"I... Yes, I am."

"He's quite the handful, isn't he? It was a pleasure meeting you anyway, Prowl, I have to get to work."

"Likewise. I'm sure Jazz will be happy to see his jacket, he was convinced he had lost it." Prowl lied, offering a weak smile before he closed the door.

Ouch, ouch, ouch.

The woman was beautiful with long, flowing and soft ginger hair, pale skin covered in freckles like stars. Her eyes were jade green, lips full.

Prowl could see why, but it didn't make it hurt any less.

He lay the jacket over the arm of the sofa before continuing to pack.

* * *

 

Fuck, fuck, fuck! They'd found Prowl, they knew where he lived.

Jazz tried to not show his panic. Covert, Jazz. Covert. Keep your head in the game, give nothing away.

He hoped the disguise kit Wheeljack had made for him held out long enough.

Jazz felt awful. He had to keep this mission a secret from Prowl - not to mention it was one he went on himself without any clearance - or he'd put Prowl in even more danger. And it felt so, so wrong.

All Jazz could hope for was that Prowl was willing to listen to any explanation he could give. But for now, he had to focus on stopping their SIC getting a bullet through his head.

The only ones who knew about this plot to assassinate Prowl were Wheeljack, whom he had approached to make the disguise kit, and Ironhide. Not long after Jazz had started his mission, the man had cornered him and started demanding answers to his behaviour. It took a lot of promises and favours to get Ironhide to not spill, although Jazz was pretty certain Chromia knew too. As to whether or not Ratchet and Optimus knew - they were still as close as ever and acted more as friends than colleagues most of the time - Jazz didn't know. Some part of him hoped that they did.

He fumbled with his keys, finding the right one before unlocking the door.

"Prowler?" He called out, stepping into their apartment. There was no reply.

Dread slowly settling in, Jazz walked further in, peeking into all of the rooms. The last room he looked in was the living room.

Prowl was sat on the sofa, reading a book.

Jazz couldn't help the relieved sigh of the others name that escaped his lips.

"When were you going to tell me?" Prowl asked, eyes not leaving his book.

Oh, shit. He'd found out.

"Ah promise Ah was gunna tell ya, but Ah had ta make sure ya'd be okay first-"

"If you're not interested anymore you could have just said, it's quicker and easier."

It was Jazz's turn to be confused. What was he talking about?

"Wha'? Where's this comin' from?"

"Your _girlfriend_ dropped this off earlier." Prowl replied, finally tearing his eyes from his book as he closed it and stood up, pushing the jacket towards him. "And your _flat_ _mate_ is leaving."

"Prowl, Ah don't have a girlfriend." Jazz would have been searching for the cameras if it were someone else, but Prowl wasn't the type to play pranks like this.

"The woman at the door believed different."

"What did she look like?" Jazz immediately asked, stomach dropping.

"Long ginger hair, green eyes. Admittedly she is attractive."

Ooohhh shiiiit. Jazz knew who he was talking about. But she was definitely not his girlfriend, she was his boss. Well, in this mission anyway. What on earth was she playing at?

"Prowl, Ah promise ya that's not the case. Ah honestly wish Ah could tell ya but Ah can't. Ah just can't."

Prowl glanced at his watch. It was late, nearing on midnight. He'd have to leave in a couple of hours.

"I'm leaving soon."

"Where?" Jazz asked, eyes widening. All intel of the group trying to kill him pointed at them not knowing this. Would he be safe?

"The base a few hundred miles south of here. I _did_ tell you this..."

Jazz immediately felt guilty.

"Ah'm sorry, a lot's been goin' on lately..."

"Why haven't you been telling me anything?" Prowl quietly asked.

"Ah can't."

"You're supposed to trust me-"

"Ah do!"

"Then why? Why can't you?"

"Ah just- Ah just can't, okay?"

"There has to be a reason!"

"Prowler please, just believe me when Ah say Ah can't. Ah don't want ya ta get hurt."

"It's a bit too late to consider my well being."

Jazz flinched at the tone, knowing full well that Prowl was right.

"Prowl..."

"You never gave any explanation, not once. You were late, you stood me up, you weren't here when we needed you, you're hiding things and you weren't telling the truth." Prowl walked past Jazz, picking up a bag from the floor as he went. "I simply don't know what to do, Jazz."

"As soon as Ah can, Ah'll tell ya. Even if Ah'm halfway across the world, Ah'll tell ya."

"I'm sorry, Jazz."

"Please don't, please don't say it." Jazz internally begged, feeling his legs go numb. If Prowl said those damning words, Jazz was almost certain he wouldn't be composed for much longer.

"I love you, so so much. But I can't do this. I can't handle not knowing."

"Ah love ya too." Jazz replied, taking a step closer. "Please-" Jazz didn't know what to say, the words catching in his throat. Don't leave me? Trust me? Be careful?

Prowl continued as if Jazz hadn't spoken. "I'm clearly not what you need."

"Don't ya dare. Don't say it." Jazz said, hating how his voice wavered. Prowl must have thought he was so pathetic...

"I have to go now. When I get back, we'll talk."

Jazz nodded, and only a single second passed before he had flung his arms around Prowl and was holding him tightly.

It was strange how overwhelming a simple hug could be, but Jazz held. Prowl probably wouldn't appreciate his usual overly emotional self.

"Please be careful." Jazz said, his voice muffled in Prowls shirt.

"I will be." Prowl replied, returning the hug. Jazz was immensely grateful that he wasn't pushed away. He didn't deserve Prowl, not at all.

* * *

 

Prowl arrived in good time. He was shown to his temporary quarters, given his keycards and the various codes, and left to his own devices. When they had offered to give him a tour of his quarters, Prowl had denied them – they’d probably take the time it would’ve taken to show him around as a break, and it wasn’t as if he couldn’t snoop around himself.

Prowl made a mental map as he walked around and opened doors. Bedroom on the left. Bathroom on the right, two doors down. Kitchenette straight ahead. A small TV in the corner, a red light on in the bottom corner.

Prowl turned it off.

He busied himself with unpacking, trying to ignore the ache in his joins. God, he was exhausted. When was the last time he’d had a good nights sleep?

Stretching, Prowl wondered how long he’d be here. Bluestreak would be okay with Alessia, but god only knew how much Prowl would rather be with him, feigning reluctance to marathon Disney movies while they huddled under blankets, a purring cat sitting on their feet and preventing all movement.

Socks would be fine, too. The cat was clever, the cat was smart. They’d work out that nobody was home and stay on base, where they’d be safe, warm, and fed.

* * *

 

Ten days. It had been ten days, and Prowl couldn’t see himself getting home any time soon. The recruits weren’t making much significant progress, making Prowl wonder just who the heck had been teaching them. Even the most basic concepts they were finding difficult to grasp…

Then again, Prowl supposed, it was simple to him because he already knew it. He’d have to be patient, punishing them for it wouldn’t get them anywhere. Sighing and rubbing at his eyes, he set to creating a new scenario for them to work with the next day. His premade ones would have to wait – they needed something a little easier before they could get to those.

There was a knock on his door. Frowning slightly, as he wasn’t expecting any visitors, Prowl checked the CCTV.

Someone with long ginger hair. He recognized her – the woman at the flat. Jazz’s-

The word hurt to even think about. Pushing it aside, Prowl opened the door.

“I-Aren’t you..?”

She didn’t say a word as she harshly shoved Prowl into the office.

* * *

 

Jazz had never run faster in his life.

Heart pounding in his chest, he sprinted towards Prowls office, praying desperately to anything that may have been listening. He had never wished more than in that moment that someone was.

Snow was still lightly dusted in his hair, clinging to the thick dreads. People immediately moved out of the way when they saw him coming, pressing close against the walls. Jazz didn't think anything of it, he didn't even notice. All he knew was that he had to get to Prowl before they did. He _had_ to.

The door was ajar, and Jazz could hear two voices he recognised. One was Prowls, and Jazz's heart leapt, but it froze in fear when he heard the second voice. It was hers.

Silence was key, and silence Jazz could do. Slowly, the door was opened and Jazz crept in, ducking behind the filing cabinet so he went unseen by the other two occupants. He peeked around an-

She was holding a gun, and it was pointed at Prowl.

Jazz didn't even think, he just reacted. Her finger twitched on the trigger, and Jazz jumped out and tackled her, trying his hardest in his clumsy, jumbled mind to remember how to disarm her when it went off.

Red bloomed on a crisp white shirt.

Jazz's world stopped turning.

Prowl lifted a trembling hand to his abdomen as he slowly crumpled, eyes never leaving the form of Jazz. His breathing became ragged, blood whetting his lips.

" _You_ _fucking_..!"

Jazz was certain that the gun had fired another two times, but none of the bullets hit their target. If the stinging in his shoulder was any indication, one had grazed him but he didn't care as Mirage finally caught up to him. Jazz didn't hesitate to rush to Prowls side, the man now sitting slumped against the wall and clutching at his stomach as his shirt grew more and more sodden with blood.

"I always knew something was wrong with you." She spat at Jazz as she attempted to smack Mirage with the butt of her gun. "You really had them fooled, I commend you. But not me. Never me."

Jazz silently cursed himself. He'd failed. Prowl still ended up getting hurt.

And he was getting closer and closer to death with every minute that passed, there was nothing anyone in the room could do. All they could do was hope to god someone had the sense to raise the alarm after hearing the gunshots. She cried out in pain as Mirage managed to harshly twist her arm, forcing her to drop the gun, before he kicked it away and pinned her down to the floor.

"Prowl? Prowler? Look at me, look at me please please _please_..." Jazz desperately begged, Prowls eyes gaining a slightly glassy appearance as he grew more and more droopy, not focusing on anything. When Jazz touched his cheek, Prowl twitched and finally looked up at him.

"Jazz?"

"Stay with me, ya hear?"

"I'll try." Prowl replied, leaning heavily against Jazz. "I'm sorry I made you upset. I didn't mean it. I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

"Ah forgave ya before ya'd even said anything." Jazz shakily replied, voice thick. "Jus' one more thing for me, 'kay? Then nothin' more. Ya won't have ta deal with me again."

"I don't want to be rid of you."

The woman was still face down on the floor, looking on with disgust. "You two are revolting." She spat. Just before Mirage could leap to his commanders defence, she continued. "You're security threats. Superior officers shouldn't have personal relationships."

"Keep quiet." Mirage snapped, still holding her down. He was reluctant to let her go until security came, and if the urgent chatter over the comm was any indication it was on its way.

Jazz looked down at his hands, trembling when he saw just how red they were with blood. Oh god, oh no, there was so much _please_ someone come quick, please please _please_ -

He had to keep him awake.

“Prowler, can ya tell me who ya teachin’? Jus’ nicknames or descriptions will do, please?”

Prowl was quiet for a few moments, eyes blankly flicking around the room, before he eventually focused on Jazz again.

“There’s a really annoying one. I don’t think he bathes properly, he looks like that man from the movies Blue likes. The one with black hair. Snape. That’s what I call him.”

“That’s mean, Prowler.”

“You did ask.”

“True, true. Can ya carry on? Who else?”

Prowl continued naming them with varying degrees of insult. The woman was eventually dragged out by a burly bear of a man, Mirage following close behind to make sure she didn’t try anything. Eventually, a medic arrived.

“Move aside, please.” They said, brushing Jazz’s hands away. “Thank you for keeping him awake this long, I can take it from here.”


	18. Dog

Prowl woke up with a dull ache in his side and a pressure in his palm. Turning, oh _why_ did that hurt, he saw Jazz, his mouth moving a mile a minute and – oh no, oh no he was crying why was he crying, please, please don’t cry I hate it when you do-!

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry” The words spilling from Jazz’s mouth suddenly made sense, and Prowl tried to sit up.

Agonizing pain.

He aborted the action and lay back down again with a grimace.

“Don’t reopen it, please Prowler.” Jazz said, a hand gently pressing into his shoulder.

“Ugh.” Prowl groaned, pressing his palm into his forehead. “I got _shot_. How did I not expect that?”

“Ah should have told ya.” Jazz quietly said. Prowl narrowed his eyes at him.

“Yes. You should.”

“We have ta move, too.” Jazz continued, giving Prowl a cautious glance. What was he worried about-

Oh. Yes. _That_.

 _We_.

“That place with the windows you liked hasn’t been bought yet.” Prowl replied. “I checked.”

Jazz gratefully squeezed his fingers.

“But don’t think you’ve gotten away scot free.” Prowl said before closing his eyes. He was so, so tired…

“Oh, Ah’d never.” Jazz replied.

* * *

 

Prowl never got a chance to bid farewell to their old apartment and it’s mottled carpets.

Jazz had gotten to buying the new place not long after Prowl had woken up – now that the enemy knew where it was, they had to move or they’d try again and again – it was cheaper and easier for everyone if they just lived elsewhere.

Bluestreak happily flopped down onto his bed – oh it was huge and oh so very plump and soft and warm and cuddly-

Even more so when Socks jumped up and joined him, kneading Blue’s tummy before settling down there to nap.

While before they’d been living in a cheap apartment – it was less suspicious than living in the luxury they could afford – they now lived in a modest home with a spacious garden. Even better, the base was much closer – they could walk there if they had wanted to.

And even better than that when Bluestreak was concerned?

No more catching the bus to see the twins! Oh no, they were within walking distance too.

Prowl was just glad that there were less steps; he didn’t think he’d be able to get to his old apartment with the state he was in, especially on his own.

He had wanted to surprise Jazz, and so didn’t tell him that he had been released – Ironhide had given him a lift to his new house and left him to sneak in and sneak up on Jazz.

Even from outside, Ironhide heard the shriek from Jazz as Prowl scared him senseless.

He drove away with a smirk on his face.

“Ah didn’ know ya were getting released today!” Jazz exclaimed, desperate to hug him tightly, but knowing better. Instead, his hands trembled with excitement as they clutched onto Prowls. “Why didn’ ya tell me?!”

“To keep it a surprise.” Prowl said. “I like what you’ve done with the place so far. I’m amazed you managed it without me.” Prowl smirked.

“Cruel, Ah can do _some_ thin’s.”

“Such as unpack, clearly.” Prowl replied. Jazz avoided looking behind Prowl, where another stack of their things still lay. He hadn’t gotten round to that just yet…

“Come on, Ah’ll give ya a tour of the place.” Jazz said, pulling Prowl along behind him. “Apparently the internet’s coming on today.”

“We could skype my mother.”

“Ah’m sure she’s having kittens about ya.”

Prowls mother had been stuck over seas as part of her job, and was distraught when her bosses forbade her to return to see her son in hospital. Jazz was pretty sure her bosses received an ear full for it, but decided to not say anything to anyone about it.

* * *

 

It had been months since Prowl had first fallen asleep in his new room.

Settled in, the three (four, if you included Socks) piled into the car and drove to the base. There, Jazz got to work, Bluestreak went to complete an assignment and Prowl was surrounded by people he was surprised to learn had missed him. Prowls plan of sneaking into his office and working was foiled.

He had learned of the fate of the woman who had shot him, and it was with no small amount of glee that he discovered she was still being held in the brig. Apparently, she was with the Decepticons and they were going to have a shot at bargaining for a prisoner of their own.

Prowl didn’t look at his watch, or any kind of clock for that matter, until Bluestreak plopped himself down next to him, a sleepy Socks in his arms, and asked him where Jazz was.

“I thought he finished around now.” Bluestreak said, squishing one of Socks paws in between his fingers. The cat lazily flicked its tail at him.

“He’s probably caught up talking to someone.” Prowl replied, leaning over to scratch the cat behind its ear. “I’ll see if I can find him.”

Before Bluestreak could protest, Prowl stood and left the room. Walking was still awkward for him, but it was manageable.

Jazz was still in his office, and was surprised when he saw Prowl suddenly sitting opposite him.

“What’s keeping you?” Prowl asked, chin in hand.

“Nothin’ big.” Jazz replied, typing on his keyboard again. “Jus’ tha’ Ah’ve been asked ta interview Kira.”

“Kira?”

“Tha’ nice lil lady who shot ya.”

Prowl’s hand twitched. When Special Ops was involved, interview was just a nice way of saying interrogate. “Are you sure you should be?”

“Ah had the joy of workin’ with her for a bit.” Jazz replied. “Ah’ve learned her tics and mannerisms, if she’s lyin’ Ah’ll know.”

“We still haven’t talked about that, you know.” Prowl replied. Jazz had the decency to look a little meek, but Prowl continued before Jazz could reply. “Before she shot me, she felt the need to go on and reveal her evil plans.” There was a smirk on his face. “They don’t seem to learn, do they?”

“No, they don’t.” Jazz replied, finally giving Prowl his full attention. “Ah didn’ do anythin’ with her, Ah just worked ma ass off ta get into her good graces an’ get inside.”

“I trust you.” Prowl replied, standing. “Come on, Bluestreak’s about to gnaw my legs off he’s so hungry.”

Both knew what Bluestreak could get like when he was hungry. The Snickers advert was often reminiscent of him, so much so that Sideswipe had taken to carrying around Snickers bars with him and handing one to Bluestreak before sprinting away to avoid the punch that was thrown.

“We’ll talk about it later, yeah?” Jazz said, shutting down his computer. It could wait.

“That would be preferable.” Prowl replied, following Jazz out.

When they had returned home, the first thing Bluestreak did was stick his head into the fridge. He shut it as he chomped down on an apple, juice spraying over his face. But did he care? No, not when he finally had something to eat.

“Ya should’a said ya were hungry earlier!” Jazz scolded, shooing the cat as he made to open the fridge himself. “Go do ya homework, Ah’ll call ya down when it’s ready.”

“Thank you!” Bluestreak cheered as he raced away upstairs.

“We’re by a different school now.” Prowl said, giving Jazz a sideways glance.

Jazz nearly dropped the cans of chopped tomatoes. “Are ya sure it’d be a good idea?”

“We should talk to him about it. He can’t come to base forever.”

“Ah know, but…”

“Just think about it.” Prowl replied. The cat leaped onto his shoulder as he stood to leave, causing the man to stumble slightly before catching himself on the table. “You’ve been feeding Socks again, haven’t you?” He pointed an accusing finger at Jazz.

“Maybe?”

“ _Jazz_ -“

“Ya haven’t seen his face!” Jazz defended himself, “Plus they just steal it! A thieving paw comes up and poof! Gone!”

“Are you stealing things?” Prowl asked Socks, facing the cat now giving him an innocent look. It meowed.

“See! Socks admits it.” Jazz replied, turning to tear the lids off the cans. “Could ya get the chili powder down from the shelf, please?”

“How did you even get it up here?” Prowl muttered as he opened the door and got it down.

“Blaster helped me unpack.” Jazz replied.

“I guess that explains how your speakers have been so perfectly rigged.” Prowl replied, taking out a chopping board and a knife to start cutting up some mushrooms. “How spicy are we making this?”

“Not very, gotta give ya tummy some time to heal.” Jazz teased. Prowl swatted away his hand when he attempted to pat his midsection.

It was after dinner when Jazz finally spilled the beans on just what he had been doing before Prowl had been shot.

Bluestreak had gone up to bed, Socks tagging along at his heels, and could faintly be heard cursing at his DS. Judging from the music, he was probably playing Pokémon.

Sitting on the sofa downstairs, listening to the rain as it pattered against the windows, Jazz recounted everything. First uncovering the plot, how terrified he was, and how he became so caught up in stopping it that he forgot about everything else.

Jazz’s face fell when Prowl didn’t give much of a reaction. Had he completely screwed up?

But then, finally, Prowl replied.

“Next time, just tell me. I am clearly the better tactician of us.”

“Ya cheeky little-!” Jazz swatted at him.

“You have no room to complain.” Prowl replied, kissing his nose. “I ended up getting shot anyway.”

Jazz just huffed and relaxed against him. “ _Fine_.”

An hour later, the two retreated upstairs to bed.

Prowl woke up early, and the first thing he did was shower.

It was the only time he could justify standing in the mirror and just staring at the scar that lay over his stomach.

It was a deep, puckered hole in his abdomen. Prowl hadn’t tried, but he suspected that he’d be able to hold a 50p coin in it.

No matter. He’d now match Jazz.

* * *

 

There was a dog in the garden.

Prowl was disturbed from his reading when he heard the excited barks, and he peered out to see a golden retriever bounding around the garden, a toy in his mouth as Bluestreak attempted to wrestle it off him so he could throw it, the dog bolting after it and bounding back for the cycle to repeat again.

They did not own a dog. They had a _cat_.

“Jazz?” Prowl called out, slowly standing.

“Yeah?” He called from the other room.

“Why is there a dog in the garden?”

“Sunny brought ‘im over. His names bob, ya should go say hi.”

Somewhat reluctantly, Prowl went downstairs and peered out into the garden. Sunstreaker was kneeling down next to the beast, rubbing it’s belly and giving it scritches, happily accepting the slobbery kisses the dog gave in return.

“Who’s a good boy? Who’s a good boy?” Sunstreaker could be heard saying, rubbing the dog around its face, squishing its ears forwards before stroking them back out again. The dogs’ tail was wagging excitedly, its tongue lolling out. When Bob spotted Prowl, he barked happily and bounced towards him.

Prowl knelt down and petted the dog, allowing it to lick his face once before he pushed it away. Bluestreak whistled and Bob ran straight back to him.

“Hello, Sunstreaker. I didn’t know you were here.” Prowl said, walking out into the garden.

“I just got here.” Sunstreaker replied. “Blue let me in.”

“This is Bob!” Bluestreak excitedly replied, the dog coming to press against him in a silent demand for more petting. “He’s a rescue from the shelter. Did you know there’s a shelter on the way to the twins shop?”

Oh, of course. Bluestreak must have gone in one day and seen the beautiful dog, immediately telling the twins about it and dragging it in.

It was no surprise that Sunstreaker had a soft spot for the dog. They had the same colour hair.

Socks was clearly jealous of the dog as they slunk around in the shadows, eyes glued onto the dog. When Prowl was within range, they climbed up the wall and jumped down onto his shoulder, tail curling around his neck.

Bluestreak laughed, Sunstreaker allowing a small smirk.

“I think someone’s jealous.” Sunstreaker replied, smiling harder at the swift glare he received.

“Evidently. They’re digging their claws in.” Prowl replied, trying to prize the cat off his shoulder. “Ow, ow, ow…”

Socks was yowling and hissing, insistent that they were not removed. Prowl quickly gave in and retreated back inside, livid cat hissing at the dog from his shoulder.

Bob simply tilted his head, tongue lolling out as he panted.

* * *

 

In the end, Jazz decided to not interview Kira.

Every time he saw the scar on Prowls stomach he would be filled with so much anger, so much hate, he knew that the moment he saw her ratty little face again he’d lose it. He’d lose it, he’d lose it and he’d hit her and hit her and hit her-

Prowls hands gently wrapped themselves around Jazz’s shaking ones, and he rested his chin on the top of Jazz’s head.

“Jazz,” He softly said, “I know this is a bad time, but there’s something you need to see.”

Jazz sighed, trying to calm himself again. “Where is it?”

“It’s in the living room.”

Untangling himself from Prowl, Jazz went downstairs. Prowl followed him closely behind, and when Jazz got to the living room door Prowl bent down slightly, as if he were about to catch something.

Raising an eyebrow, Jazz carefully opened the door.

There was a mass of fur on the sofa, gently moving. Then, he saw a black nose, and a wagging tail-

“A _dog_?!”

“I found it.” Prowl meekly replied. “While I was getting some more milk…”

“What is it with ya and abandoned animals?” Jazz replied, letting Prowl in behind him and closing the door. “Holy shit, Prowler. What breed is it?”

“It’s a Dalmatian.” Prowl replied. “It didn’t have a name tag, and the vet couldn’t find an identification chip…”

“Ah’ll get Sides ta advertise. Again.” Jazz replied, walking closer to the animal.

But now that he was closer, he saw thick, scarred over lacerations all over its body. A few were open, although thankfully not bleeding.

“Prowler, it’s hurt.”

“The vet did what she could.” Prowl replied, kneeling down next to the dog and allowing it to sniff his fingers before he stroked it. “This dog was terrified, Jazz. Whoever owned it before can’t get him back.”

“So we’ve got another pet ta add ta the collection.” Jazz replied, allowing the dog to smell him too. The dog, upon seeing that this new human didn’t bother Prowl in the slightest, licked Jazz’s fingers.

“Should we name him, or is that too clingy?” Prowl replied.

“If we’re keepin’ him, he’ll need a name.” Jazz replied. He glanced around the room and spotted the 101 dalmations case.

“Pongo.” Jazz said. “Pongo. His name’s Pongo.”

Prowl smiled. “Pongo.” He said.

Pongo barked, tail furiously wagging again.

An hour later saw Pongo sporting a new, blue collar with a bone shaped name tag. Lead clipped on, Prowl took the dog around the pet shop to find him a bed, some toys, a blanket, and two bowls (they’d buy an extra set later). After a moments thought, Prowl bought a cage for Pongo. If he turned out to be mischievous when no one was home, he’d need somewhere to be confined. Regardless, the cage could also provide somewhere for the dog to hide away if need be.

Pongo watched curiously as Prowl set up the cage in the kitchen, putting the basket inside it and putting blankets out over the top to create a secluded area for the dog. A microwaveable toy was placed inside, and Prowl sat back to observe his handy work.

Pongo immediately went inside his cage and curled up, very, very pleased with the new arrangement.

Prowl sighed in relief. He had been worried that Pongo wouldn’t like it, or would panic and try to maul him again.

Turning off the lights, Prowl left the kitchen, taking care to prop the door open.

Socks crept in to investigate.

They padded up to the cage, sniffing the air and treading carefully. Pongo stuck his head out and touched noses with the cat. After a few moments of smelling the other, Pongo returned to his previous position. Socks stood still for a few moments before entering the cage too, curling up besides Pongo.


	19. Hair dye

Pongo loved going on jogs in the morning.

Prowl woke up early, and the first thing he did every morning without fail was go for a run. He had to in order to keep up his physical fitness while he was in the police – it was a habit he never saw any reason to break. While Pongo was napping with Socks, Prowl had gone and done more research on Dalmatians and found that they needed plenty of exercise.

So Prowl pulled on his running gear, grabbed the lead, collected Pongo, and stepped out into the crisp morning air.

Now whenever Pongo saw Prowl in his running gear, he became incredibly excited and began jumping around, barely able to stay still for long enough to allow Prowl to attach the lead.

But when Prowl didn’t have time?

He would sit by the front door, lead at his paws, throw his head back and howl. Prowl and Jazz were thankful that they didn’t have any neighbors; the noise complaints they’d receive just weren’t worth thinking about…

If it was a weekend, Bluestreak would take him to the park and back, if only so he could meet up with Sunstreaker as he walked Bob.

Bob and Pongo got along swimmingly, unlike Bob and Socks, a fact everyone was glad about. When they were sure that the back garden was secure, they’d let the two frolic around together and play tug of war with sticks.

They were doing just that when Jazz and Prowl had left Bluestreak to watch the house as they went to work. Sunstreaker had come over to take photos of the dogs for some paintings and references, and when he had turned his back on them for five minutes to grab a glass of lemonade, he lost them.

“Oh, _shit_.”

Quickly grabbing his camera, Sunstreaker ran outside and frantically looked around for the wayward pair. He spotted a fluffy tail sticking out from behind a bush, and he went to investigate.

Pongo was knocked out, snoozing in the shade as Bob used him as a pillow. As usual, his tongue was lolling out. Quietly taking a few photos, Sunstreaker left them alone. They were clearly exhausted from playing.

* * *

 

They’d spoken to Bluestreak about the new school.

After much deliberation and many conversations with the teaching staff, Bluestreak was given his timetable for a month. He wouldn’t have to go in often – a few hours a day, and then Sunstreaker, Prowl, or Jazz would pick him up and take him back home. Towards the end of the month, his days became longer and more frequent until, on the last day, he was there full time.

It was a way to ease him back into it, and give him time to back away if something unsettled him.

On the first day, Prowl woke him up before he went on his run, and by the time he’d gotten back Bluestreak was dressed and ready, nervously putting the lunch he’d made the previous night into his bag.

“You’ll be just fine.” Prowl said, kissing his forehead. Pongo licked at Bluestreaks fingers, making the teen giggle.

“Can I bring Pongo?” Bluestreak asked, even though he knew the answer. Pongo barked excitedly.

“Hum, no.” Prowl bluntly replied.

“It was worth a shot.” Bluestreak said to Pongo, petting him.

Prowl dropped him off in his car on his way to base. Nobody batted an eyelid at them – they simply assumed that he was his father.

Bluestreak nervously walked towards the reception area. Please nobody recognize him, please, please, _please_ …

“Bluestreak?” A girl said, walking over to him. Bluestreaks heart nearly stopped until he recognized her.

“Ariel?” He said, fingers slackening from their death-grip on his bag.

“I didn’t know you came here.” She said, falling into step with him. “It’s good to see you away from base, anyway.”

“Likewise. I-I just transferred here…” Bluestreak replied. “I need to go to reception.”

“I’ll take you.” Ariel happily replied. “If anyone gives you hell, just let me know, okay?”

“I’m sure you’ll do worse to them than they’ll do to me.” Bluestreak replied.

“True, true.”

Ariel was every bit as fierce as her mother. She didn’t pick fights – no, she’d been taught better than that – but she finished them. Growing up on an army base had surrounded her with self-defense from a young age, and some of her earliest memories consisted of Ironhides version of baby-sitting. His definition? Letting her clean his guns and teaching her how to beat the crap out of potential attackers without pulling a muscle. When Elita had confronted him about it, he simply replied with something that broke her heart.

“I didn’t want to see the same thing happen to her.”

Bluestreak didn’t know what had happened to Elita, but considering it appeared to be a taboo subject, he didn’t ask anyone. It was likely none of his business anyway – if she wanted him to know, she’d tell him.

At reception, he received his map, and Ariel offered to give him a quick tour of the building before the first lesson began. Eagerly accepting, Bluestreak trotted behind Ariel as she went off on a spiel about the building that seemed to be too fluid to have not have been rehearsed. When Bluestreak prodded her for answers, she seemed to suddenly go shy.

“I-I was kind of hoping to get onto the ambassadors team.” Ariel replied. “They give tours during open days.”

“Did you make get on?”

“No. Apparently I’m not friendly enough.”

“You’re the friendliest person I know.” Bluestreak blurted out. Ariel turned, shocked. Bluestreak spluttered, trying to cover himself. “I mean- I don’t... I don’t know a lot of people but...”

“Cute.” Ariel replied, pinching his cheek. “Come on, your class is up ahead.”

* * *

 

It turned out that the two of them shared a _lot_ of their classes together.

Such as chemistry.

And just Bluestreaks’ luck – first lesson of the day, and he was given a practical. Luckily, he was allowed to choose a partner. Ariel was, clearly, the obvious choice. He didn’t quite trust anyone else with potentially harmful solutions – other than his family and the twins, of course. The scar on his back burned. Bluestreak winced.

“Blue, you okay?” Ariel asked as she handed him a lab coat. Bluestreak glanced at her and nodded.

“Just remembering something.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Not… not right now.”

Ariel’s eyes flashed. “It’s about what the adults were talking about on base that one time, isn’t it?”

“Yeah…” Bluestreak awkwardly replied. “Is it okay if we forget it for now and get on with the practical please I don’t really want to talk about it right now or ever just not now is that okay?”

Ariel patiently waited for Bluestreak to catch his breath again. “Of course. Could you go grab the Potassium Manganate?”

Bluestreak grabbed all of the equipment that he could carry before ferrying it back.

‘So,” Jazz asked as Bluestreak got into the car at the end of the day. “How was it?”

“Ariel is there.” Bluestreak replied, putting his seat belt on. “We’re in the same classes for almost everything.”

“Oh?” Jazz asked. Suspicious.

“Jazz, you didn’t.” Bluestreak groaned, sinking into his chair.

“Ah’d never, ever tamper with their systems. Not me, never!” Jazz replied, pulling away from the school. “That’s just naughty, Blue. How could ya?” Jazz pretended to swoon.

“Don’t pretend to be innocent, dad” Bluestreak groaned, running his hand down his face. “Pleeaaassseee.”

Jazz didn’t reply, but there was still a smirk on his face.

Bluestreak groaned. “How _could_ you.”

When they got back, Pongo excitedly greeted Bluestreak before demanding to be let outside. Bluestreak let him out, watching him from the window to make sure he didn’t start digging again, while Jazz picked up Socks and gave them a cuddle.

“When’s Prowl getting back?” Bluestreak asked, letting Pongo back inside again.

“Ah dunno, probably late again. The tacticians he was meant to have trained are now all getting send to other bases ta complete their trainin’, an’ Prowlers havin’ ta co-ordinate it.”

“That’s no fair!” Bluestreak protested as he made sure Pongos paws were dry. “He was in hospital, surely the job should have stayed with the others.”

“Apparently not. Did ya wanna walk Pongo or should Ah?”

“I’ll walk him!” Bluestreak excitedly exclaimed, grabbing the lead. The moment Pongo saw it, his tail began to wag and he sat down, tail smacking against the wooden floor.

Bluestreak clipped it onto him and grabbed his coat and some nappy bags. “I’ll see if Bob needs walking, too.”

“Ya do tha’.” Jazz replied, “Take a key wit’ ya. Ah’m havin’ a nap.”

“You’re always napping.”

“Ah ain’t gunna deny that.” Jazz replied with a shrug as he hopped up the stairs.

“I’m waking you up when I get back!”

“Don’t ya dare!”

“Mind’s made up! Too late!” Bluestreak chirped as he stepped out the door. He didn’t hear Jazz’s reply as he closed it behind him and sped up to catch up with Pongo, who was bounding away.

“Pongo! Slow down!”

* * *

 

Jazz woke up with Socks sat on his face and Pongo licking his feet.

He didn’t know who to shove off first.

The last time he’d woken up to Pongo licking his feet, he’d shrieked and kicked the dog in the face. He’d apologised after and given him lots of kisses and attention, but when Prowl had returned home he’d scampered up to him whining and crying, and when Prowl asked what was wrong he had looked up at Jazz with narrowed eyes and rubbed his face.

Prowl had not been happy with him.

Pongo was a scheming bastard, that was for sure.

Socks, on the other hand, was the only pet that actually liked him, but came equipped with claws. Claws that _hurt_. A lot.

In the end, he wriggled his arms free from where he’d pinned them underneath the pillow and prized Socks from his face while moving his foot away from Pongo.

“Ya a disgustin’ creature.” Jazz informed Pongo as he put Socks down onto the bed next to him. Socks rubbed their head against his hand and purred, making it difficult for Jazz to sit up.

“He’s not that bad.” Prowl replied from the doorway, two steaming mugs in his hands. “Sleep well?”

“Very. Wha’ time is it? Ah didn’ think ya’d be back until late.”

“Magnus is covering for me.” Prowl handed Jazz a mug when he sat up. “It’s 4pm.”

Jazz warmed his hands with the mug. “What deal did ya strike this time?”

“No deal. It was more of a ‘I want to see this through’ thing, and he was irritated I’d been given the job even though I’m still healing.”

“Hmm.” Jazz sipped his drink. “Ratchet getting an earful?”

“I didn’t hang around long enough to find out.”

“Clever girl.”

Prowl sat down next to Jazz, and Pongo wriggled onto his lap. He absently petted him as he looked at the liquid in his mug.

“How’s Bluestreak?”

“He met Ariel there, she’s in his classes.”

“No doubt you were involved, hm?” Prowl asked him with a raised eyebrow.

“Why do both of ya immediately point fingers at me!”

“Because that is what you do. You meddle.” Prowl chided with an accusing finger to the rib.

“Fine, Ah did poke around a lil’ bit! But Ah only changed a few classes, Ah promise!”

“I wonder if they’ll notice. Then we’ll have to explain.”

“They wont know it was us.”

“They’ll put two and two together. Two men in the army, one Tactical Officer, the other Special Operations? Very suspicious.”

Jazz rolled his eyes and took another sip. “They probably think ya too old ta know ya way around a computer.”

“I’m not _that_ old.”

“Ah heard ya knee click earlier! Ah heard it! It echoed!”

“Your _back_ clicked!”

“Ah do a more physically demanding job!”

“I was on bed rest for weeks!”

“Still clicked.”

“You have a grey hair.”

“What?! Where!?” Jazz nearly dropped his mug in his scramble to grab his hair and check it. When Prowl couldn’t keep it in any longer and snorted into his drink Jazz realized that he was kidding.

He was joking about a grey hair!

“Ya- ya monster!” Jazz pretended to swoon, almost dropping his mug again. “Trickin’ me like that!”

“You _did_ fall for it. And it won’t work on me, I’m blond.”

“My dad started greyin’ at this age.” Jazz grumbled. “Mum still hasn’t got a grey hair on her head, though…”

“I don’t know about my father.” Prowl frowned. “Mother, however, has noticed her hair is getting lighter.”

“Ah bet she’s gunna go snow white.”

“And she’ll loathe it.” Prowl grimaced. “I bet she’ll dye her hair.”

“Speakin’ of dyin’ hair…”

“ _No_.”

“Please?”

“No.” Prowl firmly replied, tone leaving no room for argument.

* * *

 

Ariel sighed as she turned the page of her book, long pastel pink hair hanging down off the bed with the tips brushing the floor. “Why is geography such a _bore_?”

“Because nothing explodes.” Bluestreak replied as he gnawed on the end of his pen.

The two were upstairs in Bluestreaks room, surrounded by books, pens, paper, cardboard, coloured tape – you name it, they probably had it. Geography projects, as they had discovered, were _boring_. All of the fun things – the volcanoes, the earthquakes – they’d been told they weren’t allowed to as they weren’t, strictly speaking, _geography_. No – it was _geology_ and they weren’t allowed to study that until next year, and only if they got the grades.

Ariel groaned again and let her book fall onto her face. “I wanted to do volcanoes.” She replied, somewhat muffled by the book splayed out on her face.

“Rivers can be interesting!” Bluestreak tried. “Like… there’s fish in them?”

“There’s also rubbish in them and they usually smell funny.” Ariel replied. “Ugh, how long did this thing have to be again?”

“1500 words.”

“UGH.”

“That’s not too bad, it’s including reference list and figures…”

“It’s 1000 words too many.” Ariel sighed. “Whatever, the sooner we get this over with the sooner we can play video games.”

“I will kick your ass at Mario Kart.”

“Try me.”

Nothing motivated Ariel more than video games. Want the new Pokémon? Let’s make that C an A. What’s this? Your room’s a pig sty? No internet until it’s clean.

And god, did it work.

Two hours later, the two stepped back to look at their handiwork. Hopefully it’d be good enough – their teacher could be… finicky, especially now that Ariel had pink hair. Not that Bluestreak saw any issue with it – her mother had hot pink hair, and Chromia had blue streaks in hers – but their teachers, and anyone who didn’t know them… They stared. And commented. A lot.

It wasn’t their place to.

Ariel always gave them the ‘I don’t care’ look, and Elita would just laugh it off and flick her hair in their direction when she flounced off. Chromia had to be restrained with a heavy hand and a strong grip on her shoulder.

At least, that was Bluestreaks opinion until Prowl knocked on his door and opened it.

He looked sleepy – clearly he’d fallen asleep at his desk again – and asked if Jazz was home.

His hair had one, bright cherry red streak in it.

Bluestreak couldn’t stop staring.

“Dad,” Bluestreak slowly said, “What is _that_?”

“What’s what?” Prowl replied, hands going to his hair where Bluestreak was staring. As  his fingers brushed the still slightly damp dyed hair he froze.

He looked at his hand, fingers stained red.

“JAZZ!”


	20. Scrubs

“There’s a twenty on the dresser by the door if you need anything.” Prowl said as he straightened his coat, “If you desperately need us call Ironhide. You remember his number.”

“Yup!” Bluestreak replied, showing Prowl his phone contacts list. “Just a week, right? You’ll only be a week?”

“That’s what we’ve been told.” Prowl replied. “Remember to walk Pongo and let Socks out.”

“I wont! Good luck.” Bluestreak leaned up and kissed Prowl on the cheek. Prowl kissed his forehead before leaving.

Bluestreak turned around to face the apartment. Pongo looked up expectantly at him.

His mobile phone chimed.

_I’m five mins away, want me to grab some Jerrys? - Ariel_

_Sure! – Blue_

_The Caramel Chew Chew is mine. – Ariel_

His parents – Jazz and Prowl – had left him alone for a week. It wasn’t their choice, but when duty calls… you can’t say no. So, instead of spending the week alone, he had decided to invite Ariel over. Elita was also wrapped up in the same shit as his own parents, so it definitely didn’t hurt to give her some company.

There was a rapid knocking on the door. “Open up, bitch!”

Bluestreak hopped over to the door and opened it, Ariel quickly flinging her arms around him.

“Hiiii!”

“Hi! Pongo – Pongo no don’t bark!” Bluestreak tried to calm Pongo, who had started barking at Ariel. Who was this stranger! Why were they wrapping their arms around small human?

Ariel let go of Bluestreak, put down her shopping bags, and knelt on the floor with open arms. “Come ‘ere, Pongo! Show me some love!”

It was the treat lady! Pongo bounded over to her and let her stroke him and tell him he was a good, pretty boy. Pongo licked her hands and her face when she got too close, snorting into her hair. Yes, he was a good boy, he was a very good boy.

“Dad just left,” Bluestreak said, “did you see him on your way here?”

“Yup, I got a wave. I wonder what they’re doing?”

“I don’t know… Jazz’s locked up all their laptops with his voodoo.”

“I wish I knew how he did it.” Ariel groaned as she stood back up. “I’ll go shove the ice cream in the freezer, I got some drinks too.”

“Awesome!” Bluestreak helped her put everything away, freezing as he saw her pull out a 20 pack of ciders. “Ariel-“

“Chill, chill. Mum got it for us, I’m not expecting us to drink all this either.”

“This isn’t going to be ‘I took it without her knowing’ again is it?”

Ariel laughed. “No, no! I got my ass whooped, I can still feel it!”

A few hours later found them in a fortress of pillows and blankets, Pongos dog basket sacrificed to make the roof. Pongo himself was curled up by Ariel, every so often being gifted with some popcorn.

Yes, he was good boy. Good boys got popcorn.

“What about Being Human?” Ariel asked.

“Scrubs.” Bluestreak replied.

“Merlin?”

“Scrubs.”

“Dexter?”

“ _Scrubs_.”

“You are _impossible_.” Ariel sighed as she scrolled through the selections, finding Scrubs for the manchild sat next to her. “All the selection Netflix gives us, and you want _Scrubs_.”

“Don’t judge me, I’ve seen your recently watched. How many times have you watched Kill La Kill again?”

“That’s not the point!” Ariel squeaked as the upbeat theme began playing. “Now shh, your precious is on.”

There was a knock at the door.

Pausing in his swig of his can of cider, Bluestreak slowly put it down and crept towards the door, peering through the peephole.

Sun…streaker? Sunny? What was he doing there? And that flash of red... Sides?

Cautiously, Bluestreak opened the door.

“Sunny?”

He simply held up a plastic bag. “Prowl said you were alone for a bit, Sides insisted we came to see you.”

At this, Sideswipe chirped “I thiiiink that was mostly you, Sunshine!” He jumped up towards the door, pushing his twin out of the way. “Are we intruding?”

“N-no! No… come in, I’ll go get you guys a drink. The usual?”

“Please.” Sunstreaker said as he followed Sideswipe in. He paused when Pongo didn’t hurtle towards him.

Where was the dog?

“Pongo!” He called out, waiting to see if the dog would emerge.

Pongo did emerge, covered in lipstick kisses and looking a little bit fatter than the last time he had seen him.

“What’s happened to you?” He asked, giving him skritches. “Sorry I didn’t bring Bob, he’s not very well. I know you were excited.”

Sideswipe had gone on ahead, ambling after Bluestreak, and came to a sudden stop by the living room door.

Two open cans on the table. He slowly turned to face his twin and when he had his attention, pointed into the living room.

“I think someone’s over.”

“ _Shit_.” They _were_ intruding!

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Bluestreak was having a small melt down as he boiled the kettle. Ariel was perched on the counter next to him, her hair in a messy bun.

“What’s so bad about the twins coming over?” She asked. They were complete strangers to her, but any friend of Bluestreaks was a friend of hers. She had seen brief glimpses of Sunstreaker, the blonde one, but his twin was… elusive.

“It’s Sunny I’m worried about – he doesn’t really like people and… He might…” He looked up at Ariel, cheeks slightly flushed.

Her mouth formed an ‘O’ shape.

“Get the wrong idea.” She finished. Bluestreak nodded. “I can see that being an issue.”

There was a shuffle at the door, and Ariel looked up, straight at Sideswipe.

Oh, _hell_ , she thought.

“Oh, hello!” Sideswipe said, putting the bag he held down onto the table. “You didn’t say she was here!”

“I’m sorry! This is Ariel, Ariel, this is Sideswipe.”

“Sides works, too.” He grinned, holding his hand out to her. “It’s good to finally meet you.”

Ariel shyly took his hand. “Likewise.” Her cheeks burned.

Luckily, Sideswipe began to turn his attention to something else; food.

“So we got all this chinese food, we got enough for four because they didn’t sell anything for three. Lucky hey? Where’d you want us to put it?”

“Just leave it on the side, we can deal with it when we want it.” Bluestreak replied. “Where’d Sunny go?”

“He’s just fussing your dog, I think the cat found him too.”

Bluestreak pushed the two mugs into Sideswipes hands and ran out to help Sunstreaker. Ariel heard him laughing and telling Pongo to stop licking him, and for Socks to stop pulling on his jumper.

“So you’re the one Blue goes to school with?” Sideswipe suddenly said, placing the mugs down on the side and leaning against the counter, looking up at Ariel.

“Yeah.” She replied.

“Thanks for watching him for us.” Sideswipe grinned at her. “He’s been through some shit.”

“I… heard about what those kids did. And I’ve seen it.”

“I’ve never seen Sunny so mad.” Sides quietly said. “Anyway! Sorry that we didn’t call ahead or anything, Prowl didn’t mention that you’d be here. Do you like chinese food? We can go and grab something else-“

“No! No it’s fine, don’t worry. I love chinese food.” Ariel smiled. “Sorry, can you give me a hand down?”

Sideswipe was all too happy to.

* * *

 

“I swear, all you watch is Scrubs.” Sideswipe said as the four of them settled down with their chinese.

“Hey!” Bluestreak protested.

“He’s right and you know it!” Ariel cut in with a laugh.

“Don’t encourage him!” Bluestreak squeaked. Sunstreaker silently ate his food.

Ariel excused herself to grab a can of cider. Once in the kitchen, she grabbed four cans of cider, and called for Bluestreak.

“What’d you need?” He asked as he came in, seeing Ariel holding the cans to her chest.

“Is Sides single?” she suddenly burst.

“Uh… yeah? Yeah I think so?”

“Okay… okay…” She shuffled a little. “We should watch something scary.”

“But you hate horror movies-“

“Please?”

Bluestreak was about to protest further when it hit him. She wanted an excuse to touch Sideswipe.

“Only if I get Pongo.”

“You’ll get Sunny!” She grinned at him. It was a flawless plan, and it was very, very easy to convince them to watch something scary. Sideswipe was always up for a horror movie, and Sunstreaker wasn’t bothered by… anything, really.

If only the twins hadn’t taken a completely separate sofa. Together. There was no way of making them switch.

And with horror, the two only noticed the flaw in their marvelous plan when the movie had already started, and they had no way to initiate a change in the seating arrangement.

Shit!

The two quickly clung onto each other and shared a fearful look. Oh, god!

Halfway through, Bluestreak realized that drinking copious amounts of cider had not been a good idea. He needed to pee. _Badly_.

But hell was he going to go to the bathroom alone.

Carefully detangling himself from Ariel, who whined at him and scrambled to keep contact, he wiggled out of their cocoon of blankets and pillows and ran over to Sunstreaker. “I really need to pee.” He pitifully said while giving him puppy eyes.

Sunstreaker slowly looked at him before nodding and standing, Bluestreak immediately latching onto his arm.

“Nooo! Don’t leave me!” Ariel whined, jumping to her feet. Sideswipe patted the recently vacated space next to him. “Sit with me for a bit, then.”

Ariel was only too happy to oblige, immediately leaping into the space and clinging to his arm as Sideswipe paused the movie. “Be quick.”

Bluestreak nodded and all but dragged Sunstreaker out of the living room and towards the downstairs toilet.

“I’m sorry for dragging you out,” Bluestreak said, “but I really have to go and the next jump scare might not be good for me, my clothes, or the blankets.”

“It’s fine.” Sunstreaker replied. “Why not Ariel?”

“No offence to her, but I trust you more to keep stuff away.”

“’Fair enough.”

As Bluestreak went into the bathroom, Sunstreaker waited outside. He rubbed a hand down his face and sighed.

He hated seeing Bluestreak with Ariel. It felt as though a hand had come up and grabbed his heart, squeezing it hard. His chest felt tight and heavy. Why? Why did it do that? Was it just him being selfish? All he wanted was for Bluestreak to be happy, and if it wasn’t with him that was fine.

But why did it hurt? Why did it bother him that it was with Ariel, and not himself?

He barely noticed as Bluestreak left the bathroom.

“Sunny?” He quietly asked. The other had his hand over his mouth as he glared at the opposite wall.

“Mmhm?” The other replied, quickly snapping out of the trance they had fallen into.

“Are you okay? You’ve seemed kinda… off.”

“It’s nothing.” Sunstreaker replied. “You ready to go back in?”

Bluestreak grabbed onto the fabric of Sunstreakers jumper. “There is something.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll tell you later.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Bluestreak nodded and held his arms out in invite. In the dark, it was easy for Sunstreaker ignore it and pretend he hadn’t seen it.

He wasn’t going to.

Sunstreaker wrapped his arms around Bluestreak, allowing the other to offer his strange forms of comfort. The smaller sighed happily and wrapped his arms around the taller, burying his face into their shoulder.

Okay, _maybe_ it was also Bluestreak settling his nerves. But Sunstreaker didn’t care – Bluestreak hated horror movies. There had to be a reason he’d suddenly decide to watch them…

“Oh!” Bluestreak said, muffled in Sunstreakers shoulder, “is it okay if I give Ariel Sides number?”

“I can’t see why not.” He replied, suddenly realizing. _Ooooh_.

He carefully brushed the back of Bluestreaks neck with his thumb, just touching his hairline. The weight in his chest lifted.

Now he just felt stupid.

The two went back into the living room, and seeing that Ariel had zero intention of moving they occupied the free sofa.

“Everyone ready?” He asked, pressing play when Sunstreaker nodded.

Bluestreak squinted at Sideswipe. His hair seemed… messier. He’d interrogate Ariel on that later.

The next morning, the four woke up sprawled out on the living room floor, pillows and blankets everywhere as they moved around in their sleep, with Pongo curled up in his reclaimed basket.

Sunstreaker, as always, was the first to wake. He had a weight on his chest, and peering down he saw Bluestreak fast asleep on him, a tangle of blankets around them. He found his twin sprawled out on the sofa, a hand dangling down in a tangle of Ariels endless hair.

_What a player_.

Sunstreaker settled back down onto the pile of pillows. This… wasn’t so bad.


	21. Prospect

Sunstreaker fanned himself as he stared at his latest piece of work.

It was hot. Scratch that, it was bloody hot. Sweat ran down his back, making his shirt stick to his skin. With a huff, he accepted that he had to take it off. He had wanted to stay decent; Bluestreak was over, currently occupied with washing the unruly Bob, but that wasn't going to happen. It had to come off.

He peeled it off, throwing it onto the sofa behind him. Much better. He reached over and turned the electric fan on, humming as it started to blast cold air over him.

The half finished painting sat in front of him, the reference photo stuck in the corner. Paint coated his hands, and he was pretty sure it was on his face and in his hair too.

"It looks good." Bluestreak said, leaning over his shoulder. "Is that from when we went to the river?"

"Yeah. The photo of Sides and Ariel."

"They'll love it." Bluestreak grinned. Water dripped from his hair into Sunstreakers shoulder.

"You're wet."

"Bob pulled me into the bath."

Sunstreaker sighed and shook his head. "Stupid dog. Need me to get him out of the bath?"

"Please."

Sunstreaker stood and made his way towards the bathroom, stretching as he went. Bob was a naughty boy, pulling Bluestreak into the bath. A very naughty boy.

Bluestreak trailed behind him, watching as sweat glistened on his skin, bruises peppering his shoulders and back. Just what had he been up to?

"Come on, you big oaf." Sunstreaker huffed as he picked up Bob, the sodden dog _delighted_ that he was being held. Master was holding him! Yes, today was a good day! The blue one washes with a scrubbie and joins him to play, and then master holds! His tail started wagging furiously, scattering water everywhere. What a good day!

"Bob! No!"

Bluestreak shrieked with laughter as he was once again soaked, Sunstreaker less than pleased. "Bob, no! These are my painting jeans- no! Stop!"

"He's just a dog." Bluestreak laughed, beginning to towel Bob down. "He doesn't understand."

Bob looked up at Sunstreaker as he was put down onto yet more towels, tongue lolling out of his mouth. "See? Dog."

Sunstreaker pulled a face as he continued drying him down.

Once Bob was reasonably dry, he was released into the rest of the house while Sunstreaker blocked off his art studio. A wet dog was not, under any circumstances, welcome in there. Bluestreak was ushered into the bathroom and Sunstreaker found some dry clothes for him. They were a tad big for him, belonging to Sunstreaker, but it was better than sitting around in wet clothes he figured. Bluestreaks wet clothes were then hung up in the utility area to dry.

"Sorry nothing really fits." Sunstreaker apologised as they sat in the kitchen, stirring the boiling pasta every so often.

"It's fine." Bluestreak replied, happily chopping up cooked chicken. "I didn't expect anything to anyway."

Bluestreak glanced up at Sunstreaker as he distractedly stirred the pasta. He couldn't forget the bruises, the muscle. How strong was Sunstreaker? How did he manage to hide it all so easily? How did he manage to be so gentle when he looked as though he could walk through hell?

"It's done." Sunstreaker said, snapping Bluestreak out of his thoughts. He quickly chopped the rest of the chicken before presenting it to Sunstreaker. If Sunstreaker noticed he wasn't paying much attention, he didn't comment on it.

The slushie machine beeped to say it was finished, and the two grabbed their drinks, grabbed a bowl of pasta, and settled down to watch a movie.

* * *

 

"Sunstreaker?" He quietly asked, holding his slushie like a lifeline, "Do you... Like anyone?"

Sunstreaker felt his heart leap into his throat. What should he say?

The characters on screen continued dancing together, swaying in time to the music.

"I... Do."

Bluestreak faltered slightly, biting his tongue hard to stop any sounds from escaping. "What're they like?"

Oh, god, Sunstreaker wasn't sure what was worse. Lying and saying he had no interest in anyone, or trying to describe Bluestreak without being horribly obvious.

"They're..." Sunstreaker leaned back on the sofa, staring up at the ceiling. "...nice. Kind. Tolerant. Put up with my shit pretty well." He put his cup down on the coffee table. "Very good at giving me inspiration, even if they don't realise it."

"Are you mad at Sides?" Bluestreak asked with wide eyes. Sunstreaker took a moment to find words, his mouth fumbling before finally settling on-

" _What_?"

Oh, eloquent indeed.

"I-I thought... Ariel, you draw her a lot..."

"Not that much, you just happen to be here." Sunstreaker sheepishly replied. "It's not Ariel. She's not my type."

"Then who?"

"Why are you interested?"

Bluestreak slowly put his cup onto the coffee table too. "I'm not sure. Just curious I guess."

"Then what about you?" Sunstreaker asked. "Do _you_ like anyone?"

"You never answered-"

"I think you'll find I did."

Bluestreak huffed. "... Fine, you did I suppose. I'm not sure if I do or not."

Sunstreaker felt a weight in his stomach. "What do you mean?"

"They're... Everything to me, but they're standoffish. I don't think I interest them."

"Then they're missing out." Sunstreaker took a gulp of his drink. "Majorly."

"You think so?" Bluestreak quietly asked.

"I wouldn't have said it if I didn't."

"T-thank you..." Bluestreak said as he sipped on his slushie. He didn't know where to go from here. There weren't any subtle ways of saying "It's you, asshole!" that he knew of. Jazz could probably do it, he was good at everything. But he couldn't ask him for help...

"If I wasn't afraid of Prowl kicking my ass..."

"Why would Prowl kick your ass?"

Sunstreaker tried to ignore the way his face turned red, his cheeks burning. Why was this so hard? Just rip the plaster off, Sunny. Just rip it off. If Blue rejects you he rejects you. He's not as judgemental as to stop contact with you... Is he?

He glanced over at Bluestreak, who was staring at him with a face as red as a strawberry and his mouth slightly agape. Had he caught on..?

"Me?" Bluestreak squeaked out. "It's... Me?"

Sunstreaker could only nod, not trusting his voice.

"But... Why?"

Sunstreaker fought to find the words. "I... Just do. There's a strange... draw to you."

"But I'm broken." Bluestreak quietly replied.

Sunstreakers head snapped around so fast the crack was audible. "Who said that?"

"I hear it around." Bluestreak rubbed at his eye. Stupid thing, watering.

"You're not." Sunstreaker wrapped an arm around him, pulling him close in comfort. "I promise you're not."

"You're warm." Bluestreak absently replied, curling his face into Sunstreakers chest. "Really warm."

"I try to be." Sunstreaker replied, pulling the blanket back over Bluestreak. "You okay?"

"I'm okay." He softly replied. "I'm relieved."

"Relieved?"

"I can still see you. If you liked someone else it would hurt too much, I'd want you to be happy but I rely on you too much for that. So I'd have to keep my distance."

"Blue..." Sunstreaker wrapped his other arm around him, ducking his head down. "If anyone has a problem with how often we see each other, they can go fuck themselves. It's their problem, not yours. I like that you rely on me. Not many can trust me."

Bluestreak absently traced where he knew a bruise was on Sunstreakers chest - he had seen it earlier when he was getting Bob out of the bath. Dark purple and angry looking, like a storm.

"So." Sunstreaker nudged Bluestreak. "Now that I've been stripped and lain bare for the world to see, your turn. Who."

"I thought it was obvious?" Bluestreak asked, sitting up in shock. Sunstreaker slowly shook his head.

"Close your eyes, I'll trace their name on your hands."

Sunstreaker apprehensively closed his eyes and held out his hands. Bluestreak gently took one and began tracing out letters-

Y-O-U

He frowned. You? You...!

"Are you sure?" He quietly asked.

Y-E-S

He opened his eyes and saw Bluestreak tentatively looking back as though uncertain. Why would he be uncertain? He already knew he wouldn't be rejected...

Unless he thought he was because of Prowl.

"Prowl's going to kill me." He said, closing the distance between them and pressing their lips together. He didn't force Bluestreak to stay- he loosened his arms so the other could pull away if he wanted to.

Bluestreak didn't. He leaned into the kiss, not being able to help but smile as he gripped onto Sunstreakers shirt.

"I won't let him." Bluestreak replied, suddenly unsure of what to do with himself. Was it okay for him to practically be sitting on Sunstreaker? Was he allowed to touch his shirt? Was it okay for him to be this close?

Sunstreaker didn't seem to mind, however. He simply quietly watched Bluestreak, his expression unreadable.

"We don't have to do anything." He assured him. "I'm not going to make you."

"I... Okay." Bluestreak nodded, relaxing into Sunstreaker. "I'm sorry."

"What for?" Sunstreaker asked, settling back into the sofa, arms still wrapped around Bluestreak. "You haven't done anything wrong."

"I just felt like I had to apologise."

"Don't." Sunstreaker replied, lightly tracing patterns on Bluestreaks shoulder. "Don't feel as though you have to apologise to me."

Bluestreak chewed his lip. "I'll... Try."

That was good enough for Sunstreaker. He made himself comfortable as Bluestreak huddled against him, a tangle of blankets and joy.

It would have been a perfect moment... If Bob didn't exist.

The dog did not take kindly to being ignored. How dare they ignore him, Bob! He could smell the chicken, and they did not share. This was no longer a good day. This was a sad, sad day. Without any warning, he jumped up onto the sofa, landing on Sunstreaker with a delighted bark.

Sunstreaker gasped and hissed, immediately pushing Bob off and onto Bluestreak as he coughed and tried to breathe.

“Bob!” Bluestreak squeaked as he suddenly found the dog on _him_ , his arms scrabbling to get hold of him before he fell onto the floor. “Sunny are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Sunstreaker wheezed, “Just fine.”

Bob was delighted again. They wanted to play! It was time to play! He barked excitedly and wagged his tail, smacking the sofa with it.

“I think he needs a walk.” Bluestreak said, petting bob and scratching behind his ears.

“Maybe.” Sunstreaker said, absently noticing that the movie was over and the credits were rolling. “I’ll get his lead.”

At the mention of the word lead, Bob’s ears shot up. Lead? Lead! Yes that meant outside! That meant walks! So many smells and so much sniffing to be done, yes, excellent!

He jumped up and followed Sunstreaker as the man went to grab his lead, Bluestreak going to grab his own clothes. They had quickly dried, so he took them into the bathroom with him and quickly got changed. When he stepped out, Sunstreaker was pulling on a jumper with Bob parading around with his lead, looking very pleased with himself indeed.

“You ready?” Sunstreaker asked as he tucked nappy bags into his back pocket.

“Yup!” Bluestreak happily chirped, following Sunstreaker as they left the house. Out of habit, he peered in through the shop window. It was weird, knowing that they lived in a house attached to a shop, although it made sense in a weird way.

“The usual way?” Bluestreak asked. Sunstreaker took a moment to reply.

“I thought we could take him a shorter route. It’s getting dark.”

He was right, Bluestreak realized. The sun was on its way down already, a slight chill in the air.

Bob didn’t seem to care as Sunstreaker took him the opposite way than usual, happily sniffing away at everything. Bluestreak stayed close to Sunstreaker, a habit he hadn’t broken even years later, shooting a nervous glance at the house opposite the street.

A new couple had moved in not long after Sunstreaker had carried Bluestreak out, and they were appalled when they had heard what had happened to him. They had tried to make friends with Bluestreak, but he still couldn’t shake the memories and the feeling of fear.

He still appreciated the effort, though.

They were walking past a field when they finally encountered someone. Sunstreaker seemed to know them.

“Get behind me.” He quietly said as he slowed down, the other person calling Sunstreakers name.

“I thought you’d be there tonight.” They said, their voice smooth like velvet. He glanced down, spotting Bluestreak. “Oh, who’s this? A new prospect?”

“They’re not for you.” Sunstreaker firmly replied.

“Pity.” The other stood to their full height and looked back at Sunstreaker. Bluestreak silently glanced between the two, thoroughly confused. A new prospect? What?

“I’ll be there tomorrow.” Sunstreaker said, giving the other a hard look. “Don’t get any ideas. I’m getting offers from other places.”

“Ooh, scary. Are you threatening me, Sunstreaker?”

“Depends on what you’re planning.”

The other man looked back at Bluestreak, a smirk on his face. “Of course. I’ll be seeing you then, golden boy.” He nodded and continued on, Sunstreaker watching him with a glare until he turned the corner.

“Who was that?” Bluestreak quietly asked.

“Just someone I know.” Sunstreaker replied. “I wouldn’t worry, he’s well aware I can kick his ass.”

“What did he mean by new prospect?”

The two began walking again, Bob reaching the end of his lead and tugging them, hoarsely panting as the collar pulled back on his throat. Sunstreaker jogged forwards with a tut.

“He’s a blood sucking… business man.” Sunstreaker eventually replied. “New prospects are new employees.”

“And he wants me?” Bluestreak asked with a shudder. “He’s creepy. I don’t like him.”

“Good. He’s a slimy piece of shit.”

“Is he your boss?”

“He’s more of a body snatcher.”

“You really don’t like him, do you?”

“Not at all.”

Bluestreak couldn’t help but laugh at that.

When they got back, Sideswipe was still not home. Sunstreaker shrugged it off, saying he must still be with Ariel. Bluestreak quickly text her to ask while Sunstreaker cleared up the living room. A few moments later she text back confirming that they were still together, along with a picture of Sideswipe passed out on the sofa, dribbling down his cheek. Gross.

“I don’t think he’s coming back tonight.” Bluestreak said with a laugh, showing Sunstreaker the picture. He laughed.

“Fair play. Did you want anything to drink?”

“Just some water.” Bluestreak replied as Bob licked his legs. He decided to not question why he was doing that.

Sunstreaker handed him a glass of water as he flicked the kettle on and yawned.

“Tired?” Bluestreak asked as he suppressed a yawn of his own.

“I’ll take the sofa.” Sunstreaker said as he poured out his drink. “You can borrow my clothes again if you need.”

Bluestreak nodded, following Sunstreaker as he walked to his room. Sunstreaker grabbed a spare blanket, sleepily kissed Bluestreak on the forehead (Bluestreaks cheeks burned at that while his heart did flip-flops) and wished him goodnight.

Bluestreak flopped down onto the bed, just knowing that his face was bright red again.

It suddenly hit him. Sunstreaker liked him! He liked him back! He curled into a ball and bit down on his bottom lip to stop himself from making any excited noises. This was more than he could have wished for. Way more!

He grabbed the shirt he was wearing earlier – it still smelled like Sunstreaker – and changed into it as he wriggled off his jeans. He gulped some of his water before crawling under the duvet and turning off the light before-

_“Potential prospect?”_

Bluestreak froze.

Sunstreaker wouldn’t mind… right?

Bundled in the duvet, water in one hand and phone tucked into the waistband of his boxers as his other hand clutched the duvet, he made his way to the living room. The light was off, and he could faintly hear Sunstreaker breathing. He quietly put his glass and phone onto the table, carefully creeping onto the sofa.

“Blue?” Sunstreaker sleepily said, shuffling to give Bluestreak more room.

“I’msorryI’mscaredIcan’tsleep-“ Bluestreak rambled before Sunstreaker simply pulled him down onto the sofa and threw some of his blanket over him.

Bluestreak tried his best to give Sunstreaker some of the duvet before he cuddled up closer and fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three guesses what I’m writing next!  
> Hint; it involves Prowl, the twins, and the mystery man!


End file.
